Our Obligations
by Worldmaker
Summary: The sins of the father are often visited upon the son. But does the son have to blindly accept the weight of their parent's legacy? A sequel of sorts to "I Saw My Lady Weep". Reposting.
1. Here Begins A New Life

**Our Obligations**

"_**Remember always that you not only have the right to be an individual, you have an obligation to be one."**_

_**--- Eleanor Roosevelt.**_

**Chapter One: **_**Here Begins a New Life**_

"Now, Scorpius, remember… your mother and I will write you often, and I am sure your grand-mother will send you some sweets now and again, so you won't get homesick. I'm certain that once you've been sorted and have made some friends in Slytherin House, you'll be too busy having fun with them to be homesick."

"They're going to hate me," the boy whispered, half to himself. He hadn't meant to speak aloud, but his father heard him say it anyway. "They're all going to hate me."

Draco Malfoy knelt in front of his son, tugging on the boy's collar to straighten it. "If they hate you then they aren't worth knowing, are they? Always remember, Scorpius… you're a Malfoy, a part of an old and respected family dating back hundreds of years. Keep your chin up, do your best. Make us proud. That's much more important than what any Gryffindor urchin says about you."

The boy opened his mouth, intending to ask Father where his precious Slytherin House had landed the family, but stopped himself. Draco patted his son on the shoulder and smiled. Scorpius had noticed a while ago that Father's smile, while seeming warm, had an icy quality to it that somehow prevented it from ever travelling to his eyes. Draco Malfoy's eyes were always dull and lifeless, reflecting life and light, like doll's eyes.

"I'll try Father," Scorpius replied. And it was always "Father". Never "Dad", or "Daddy", and never, ever "Papa". Once, he had overheard Michel Zabini call his father "Papa" during a visit to the Malfoy home, and decided to try it out on his own father. The reaction was less salutary than Scorpius had hoped.

The boy's thoughts returned to his imminent trip on the Hogwarts Express. There was no help for it. Father wasn't sympathetic to his concerns. Mother, on the other hand, was very sympathetic. If she had her way, he'd be going to Beauxbatons, or perhaps even the Salem Academy… Merlin, even Durmstrang! Anywhere but Hogwarts, where the Malfoy name wasn't considered "old and respected" but rather "feared and hated". Where Mother had wanted to protect her son from those who despised anyone who carried the name Malfoy, Father had argued it would do no good for Scorpius to hide away for years, only to come back to a hate-filled environment after he graduated. Better to wade his way through such inconsequential gossip now.

If Scorpius had his way, his last name would be anything but Malfoy. He loved his parents, and he knew that they loved him… truly loved him… in their own way. But neither Draco Malfoy nor his wife Astoria were very warm to other people, not even their son, a fact that often caused Scorpius some heartbreak.

The true tragedy was that he never knew _why _everyone hated the Malfoys. No one, certainly _not_ his father, would explain to Scorpius how it came to be that the Malfoys were pariahs, undesirable even to children and parents who had never met them before.

"You have to forge through it, Scorpius. The people most likely to judge you for the crimes of your grandfather are those least worthy of your notice." Father maintained a constant silence about his own crimes. In his entire life, Scorpius had been beaten by his father twice in his life. The first time was when he had asked about the tattoo his father wore on his left arm. The other had been after Scorpius asked why the parents of neighbour-children called Draco a "Death Eater", whatever that meant.

Scorpius had learned not to ask so many questions after that.

Mother explained that the Malfoys once were among the richest families in Britain. They'd lost almost everything at the end of the last war. He still didn't know what that meant, because she wouldn't go into any detail. None of the books in the library held any information about the downfall of the family. He had managed to discover that his grandfather, Lucius Malfoy, had died in Azkaban Prison and that this was connected, somehow, to the Malfoys losing it all.

Of course, by that point he'd already stopped asking questions.

"Time to get on the train, my lovely boy." His mother knelt in front of him. She caressed his cheek, then kissed him lightly on the forehead. "Write soon, my beautiful boy. I'm going to miss you." She turned to his father, who stuck out his hand to Scorpius like they were mere acquaintances.

"Good luck, son." Scorpius shook his father's hand, and then watched the man turn and disappear into the mist. His mother stood for a moment, caught in indecision.

"Hurry on to the train, Scorpius. Have fun at school. Write me, please!" And then she too, was gone.

Scorpius shrugged his shoulders, not quite sure what to do just then. He cocked an eye toward his owl. "Well, Iris, I guess it's just the two of us now." The barn owl opened one eye, blinked, then went back to sleep.

With a deep, depressing sigh Scorpius pulled his baggage cart along the train, looking for a likely compartment. The first several were already full of older students, chattering away about whatever it was they chattered about. They were laughing together, smiling at each other, and just being together in a manner of which Scorpius had little experience. Shortly he'd be expected to interact with the other students as one of them. The thought gave him a case of the willies.

Several students stared at him as he passed. A large percentage accompanied their stares with smirks and comments to their compartment-mates. Some gave him the courtesy of making their sarcastic remarks soft enough that he couldn't hear them. Scorpius kept his eyes lowered enough to avoid the curious gazes of his fellow students, but raised enough to watch for empty compartments.

Others made sure he could hear them. One older girl turned her face away from Scorpius and said to someone nearby, "Oh my… they're letting any piece of gutter trash attend Hogwarts these days!" The sheer venom in the voice caused Scorpius to whip his head up. He didn't know who the girl was, but her face was twisted into a cruel smirk. She looked right back at him. "Go back home, little snake… no one wants you here."

He kept walking.

The next to last compartment was empty. It was a struggle but Scorpius managed to wrestle his school trunk, his suitcase, and his owl's cage up and into the train. "Sorry about all the bumping and shoving, Iris. I have to get you stowed." It took some minutes, but in the end his trunk was snug under his seat, while his owl was tucked into the overhead rack. At long last, the boy sat back and took a deep breath. He was on the train to Hogwarts. Now all he had to do was survive the next seven years.

A few short minutes later, Scorpius felt the train jerk into motion. He watched the city move past his window, turning into the countryside. He pulled one of his schoolbooks from the carefully bound stack, and opened it at random. Reading the procedure for making a potion that cured boils wasn't the most exciting of activities but at least it would help the time pass.

He had made it halfway through the Forgetfulness Potion when the inner door to his compartment slammed open. "You there… you're in our carriage. Get out, now."

The speaker was a large boy, at least four or five years older than Scorpius. Behind the speaker he could see two more boys and a girl. They carried the cruel, heartless grins that only bullies could ever seem to pull off well. From the colour of their tie, Scorpius could tell that they all belonged to Slytherin. His father wore that tie all the time; it couldn't be anything else.

"Didn't you hear me, you pathetic slug? Get out!" The intruder grabbed Scorpius by the arm and shoved him out the door. Scorpius crashed into the far wall, the impact causing him to bite his tongue hard enough to bleed. He rolled over, scrambling to his feet. Scorpius had to jump aside as his books were thrown at him, followed by his trunk, and then his owl, still in its cage.

"Hey! You can't just…" Scorpius began to protest. His words stopped as the ringleader stepped out and slapped the eleven-year-old across the face.

"Can't? _**Can't?**_ Let me educate you on proper protocol, you ignorant slug!" The older boy pulled Scorpius closer with one hand. With the other hand, the bully grabbed his own robes and thrust a brass pin forward. The badge was embossed with a snake wrapping itself around the letter P. "This is a prefect's badge, Mister Scorpius By-Your-Leave Malfoy." Scorpius looked shocked for a moment and the boy continued. "Oh yes, we know who you are." He pushed Scorpius off, but continued looming. "I'm McCorkindale. My friends are Roberts, Leatherby, and Bletchley. You'd do well to remember our names. This pin" --- again the boy thrust it into Scorpius's face --- "says I can do whatever I sodding want, when I sodding want to do it, to whomever I sodding want to do it to, and there's nothing you can say about it!"

With that final word, he shoved Scorpius backward. The younger boy tripped over his own books and while falling bumped his head on the wall. McCorkindale finished his rant with a sneer. "Now shut it and learn your place." With that, he slammed the door closed. Scorpius could see the bully's friends laughing at him through the windows of the compartment.

Tears began to form. He couldn't help it. He tried not to cry but couldn't stop. Scorpius wiped at his nose and sobbed. Then, still crying, he tried to stack his things as neatly as possible, but gave up halfway through. He propped himself up against the wall, dropped his head into his hands, gritted his teeth, and tried to will himself to stop crying. It didn't work… at least it didn't work well… instead he got angrier, and in his anger he cried that much harder.

He failed to notice that he wasn't alone any longer. "Well, look at this young gentleman here." Scorpius looked up, shocked. An older girl… maybe as old as his tormentors, maybe not… knelt down so that her face was level with his. She was pretty, but not beautiful. Her nose was a bit too short and flat for her face, and her eyes, Scorpius noted, were the same gray colour as his own. She looked kind, though, and that kind look made her a refuse to the crying boy.

The girl tucked a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear. "Hello, there. My name's Dahlia… are you okay? Are you hurt?" She smiled at the boy and helped him to his feet.

Scorpius spoke in sobs. Behind the grief and the anger he was a bit embarrassed. He hadn't spoken in that stuttered cry-speak since he was a baby. "I'm… okay…" he said between sniffles. "They threw me… out… of my compartment. Said I… couldn't… do anything… about it." He pointed toward his tormentors and said a word he'd heard Father use once, when Father found his Grand-Mam asleep on the chaise, surrounded by a small collection of firewhisky bottles. The foul word was unfamiliar to his mouth, but somehow made him feel so much better.

The girl, Dahlia, smirked at the obscenity. "Well… we'll see what can be done, alright? Here… let's find you another compartment." She walked him past one full of children, then to another that only had three; two boys and a girl. At this one, Dahlia stopped and nudged him inside. "Make yourself as comfortable as possible. I'll be right back with your things."

The three students already in the compartment looked at him with varying degrees of shock and, in the case of the oldest of the three, disgust. He sat, trying to stay as far away as possible from his new travelling companions. Other than their colouration, the children in the compartment resembled each other enough that it was clear they were siblings, or perhaps first cousins. The girl had thick, almost bushy red hair and was covered in freckles. The older boy was likewise freckled, though not to the same extent. He and the younger boy had messy black hair.

All three stared at Scorpius for a moment before the younger of the boys spoke up. "Aren't you Scorpius Malfoy?"

Scorpius nodded, knowing what would come next. "Yeah."

The older boy's scowl increased. "Slimy git. Slytherin, he's got to be," he muttered. He opened his mouth to say something else but was interrupted by the other boy.

"Shut it, James! He's not a Slytherin yet, just like Rose and I aren't Gryffindors yet." The boy pointed at Scorpius. "For all you know, he could end up in Gryffindor and I could end up in Slytherin, just like you were joking. What if Rose gets sorted into Slytherin? What then? It could happen you know. Are you going to call us slimy gits, then? Huh?"

The girl, Rose, looked confused and shook her head. James, which was apparently the older boy's name, was still simmering. "He's still a slimy git. You heard Uncle Ron's stories about the Malfoys. You know what Uncle George always says…"

The younger boy waved the comment away. "Do us all a favor and stop speaking. Please, James." Turning to Scorpius, he extended a hand. "I'm Albus Potter, but everybody just calls me Al. Look, I'm sorry for my brother here. He's as thick as a stone and he doesn't know when to stop talking." Scorpius saw the younger boy give his brother a venomous look. Then Al indicated the girl. "This is my cousin, Rose."

She held her hand out. "Rose Weasley. Nice to meet you, I suppose." Her smile was thin, yet it seemed genuine.

"Scorpius Malfoy. Thanks for letting me sit here. Sorry to disturb you. If you want, you can just ignore me… most people do."

"Yes, thanks! We'll ignore you then." James stared daggers at Scorpius, as if wishing he'd burst into flame. Scorpius just turned to look through the windows into the passage. That girl Dahlia was ordering three of his tormentors around. From his vantage point, he couldn't see McCorkindale, nor could he tell how it was she had intimidated the other seventh years to collect his possessions. Once everything was up, the seventh years carried his things into his new compartment.

Dahlia was continuing a rant she had started earlier: "And if I hear of you trying any reprisals on this little boy, I'll make you smart for it. Do you understand?" There was a stern quality to Dahlia's voice that made Scorpius believe every syllable. "Now go pick McCorkindale off of the floor and leave the kids alone."

As the bullies left, she smiled at Scorpius. "Don't worry, Mister Malfoy… you're going to be safe here. At least until the end of the year."

"The end of the year?" Scorpius asked.

"Yes, when I finish Hogwarts."

"Oh…"

She waved at him, and then started out. She pulled herself back into the compartment. "Oh, and Scorpius, always remember that holding a grudge is a lot like swallowing poison and then waiting for someone else to die of it. It's usually not worth the effort." With those last words, Dahlia disappeared down the passageway.

"So how do you know the Head Girl?" asked James Potter after a long moment.

"I don't," Scorpius said with a shrug. "I mean, really, the only people I know are you three. I didn't even know she was Head Girl." He opened the door and looked into the passage, but his guardian angel had disappeared.

"Really? The only other students you know are us three? But you don't know us. I mean, other than our names, I mean." Albus seemed shocked. "Your dad's all famous and everything. I mean, not as famous maybe as my dad, but everybody knows about the Mal…"

Scorpius looked away, trying not to cry again. His expression soured as he said, "Yeah, everybody knows my family." He wiped his nose on the sleeve of his robes again. "And obviously, everybody knows that I'm just a slimy little git who can't be trusted. Obviously. What else can a Malfoy be, right? Everybody either hates me or is afraid of me. Which means no, I don't know anyone coming here. I've no friends whatsoever, and I know I'm going to hate it at Hogwarts because I'll be all alone for seven years." He sniffed, and then turned to stare at the train's passageway. There was nothing to stare at, so he picked a point at random and just… stared. "I'm going to get sorted into Slytherin, where no one will trust me, and that will cause me to be even more hated than I already am by everybody else in the school who isn't in Slytherin."

Albus and Rose exchanged several glances, while James just glared. Albus broke the silence. "Have… have you ever heard of a man named Sirius Black?" Scorpius shook his head. "Dad… my dad… he's always telling us stories about the people he grew up with and who raised him. This one guy, Sirius Black, was my Dad's godfather. Dad says Sirius Black was brave, and inspirational, and funny, and generous, and one of the kindest people he ever knew. And he was one of the Blacks, and they were the among worst families around. Worse than the Malfoys."

Scorpius snorted at this. He'd been taught his heritage. "My grandmother was a Black."

That didn't even slow Albus, who smiled. "One of my great-grandmothers on my mom's side was a Black. Rose's too. The same great-grandmother… Cedrella Black." Scorpius watched as the other boy thought for a minute. "Now that I think about it, I think my great-great-grandmother on my dad's side of the family was Dorea Black. That makes me and James and our sister Lily Blacks two-times over. Hey!" The other boy's sudden enthusiasm made Scorpius raise his head and stare. "Maybe we're cousins or something!"

Scorpius smirked. "Yeah, maybe we're cousins. But your name isn't Malfoy, it's Potter. I mean, I appreciate the sympathy, but it doesn't really help." Scorpius maintained his steady stare, trying not to look at his travelling companions. The other two were very quiet. They were no doubt working up the courage to throw him off of the train... while it was moving.

He felt a tap on his shoulder. "Um… Scorpius?" It was the girl, Rose. He turned back toward her. "Would you fancy a game of Exploding Snap?"


	2. A Life Of Awe And Wonder

**Chapter Two: **_**A Life of Awe and Wonder**_

Scorpius studied his cards carefully. Exploding Snap was, he knew, a game based on the luck of the draw, but it never hurt to pay attention. He watched as Albus Potter put down a seven… no luck there at all. With surprising haste, Rose Weasley countered with a four. This still didn't help Scorpius, either… but the fact that she put it down so quickly told Scorpius that she was getting careless, at least according to all those bridge lessons he had been forced to sit through, courtesy of his mother. He turned over his next card and laid it on the pile.

It was another four.

Scorpius called out "SNAP!" So did Rose and Albus. The three childred looked at each other for a moment, grinning as they all waited for one of the other two to admit defeat. But no one backed off.

Rose cleared her throat. "I do believe I won the pile. I called first," she said.

"You did not!" Albus interjected. "I did! Those cards are mine!"

Scorpius scowled at the other two children for a moment. "I think I called first," he put in. Scorpius straightened in his seat and affected the clipped, phony Received Standard accent his father used all the time. "But I'll concede the win to the lady. Beautiful maiden, you may claim your prize, along with my dearest regard!" With that, he gave Rose the best fancy, overplayed half-bow that he could while sitting on a train-carriage bench.

His new friends… and it came as something of a shock to Scorpius to realize how quickly he had come to associate Albus and Rose with friendship… giggled. After a moment, Albus waved the pile to Rose, who just smiled and scooped up the cards. James, who had been reading during the game, spoke up. "Where'd you learn to do that? That posh accent, I mean," he asked with a wide grin. "Can you teach it to me?"

Scorpius shrugged. "Three years of comportment lessons. My dad likes to pretend we don't live out in the country, but I don't see the big deal," he said in his normal Wiltshire lilt. "I've seen him standing in front of a mirror, talking like a wireless announcer." He slipped back into the RP accent to say, "A Malfoy presents himself as a proper gentleman, Scorpius. There is no excuse for acting like the commons…"

"Sounds like your dad has a real stick up his bum…" opined James. "Who'd want to be all stuck up all the time?"

Before Scorpius could reply, Rose leaned as far over as she could and punched James in the arm. "That's for being a git."

"Ow… Rosie…"

James was still rubbing the sting out of his arm when she leaned over and did it again. "And that's for calling me Rosie. Only my Dad calls me Rosie."

"Okay, okay… just don't hit me anymore. I'm sorry," James relented.

Rose sat back. "I'll have you know that my Mum had a teacher in to teach me and Hugo comportment, too, James. It's just manners. How to sit up straight, and not say things wrong, and which fork to use for dinner." She leaned in on James. "You could do with learning some, you know."

Scorpius watched the emotions crawl across the faces of James Potter and his new friend Albus. He fought the urge to withdraw again, to hide himself from the prejudices that came with being his father's son. After a moment, though, he set his jaw and locked his gaze on James, almost daring the older boy to say something else.

James caught the gaze and stared back for a moment. "Look, I didn't mean anything by ---"

The compartment door opened before James could finish. It was Dahlia. The Head Girl now wore her school robes, and had put on a blue-and-bronze-striped tie. Scorpius also noticed that her hair was different; where it hung to the middle of her back before, now it fell in curls and ringlet to only her shoulders. "All right here, everyone?" Everyone in the compartment nodded. "Good… we're almost to Hogsmeade Station. Time to put on your robes!"

Out of nowhere, James said, "Hello, Dahlia! How are you doing? I hope your ride's been pleasant!" The boy's voice was louder than necessary, and had a strange component to it.

"Oh, hello… um… Potter, was it? It's been fine, yes." Dahlia smiled uncomfortably back at James. She looked at the three first years with a strange expression. "I'll be back in a few to make sure you're ready. So… robes! Chop-chop!"

Albus shook his head and chuckled while Rose just gawked at her older cousin. It was clear that Scorpius had missed something. "What's funny, Albus?"

"James is sweet on that girl," Albus said. He chuckled a moment. "I am so going to tell Mum and Dad about this."

"I AM NOT! I just… she's… she's nice, you know?" James snapped back. "And if you tell Mum and Dad I am so going to thump you right on the noggin!" The older boy caught himself and said, "I'm sure I don't know what you mean. She's the Head Girl, and I happen to admire her for her accomplishments so far in that position."

Albus managed to wait until James finished speaking before he started to snicker. In short order, Rose and Scorpius joined Albus in his merriment.

James just sulked.

The younger boys were still laughing as they left the compartment to allow Rose time to don her school robes.

**XxxxxxX**

As the train coasted to a stop, the new students got their first look at Hogsmeade Station. The station itself was warm and comforting, with regularly-placed torces spilling their light in overlapping circles that pushed back the night. Outside, the paths were equally well-lit, and carefully tended flower beds lined the walks.

A booming voice was called out "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" somewhere toward the far end of the station. Rose, Scorpius, and Albus followed James, not really sure where to go or what to do. Sure, their parents had described things vaguely, but the actual experience was overwhelming their expectations. The older students all bustled along, hurrying to get back to school. The First Years, on the other hand, seemed to wander around for a bit, taking everything in.

Dirt paths led away to a grove of trees, while a path of white cobblestones curved down to the shore of a dark-watered lake. "All right, then." James had come to a stop. "Al, you and your friends go there, to Hagrid. He'll take you to the boats." He pointed them away. They could make out the gigantic man now, walking toward them. "I get to take the carriages this year. I'll see you later, after you get sorted into Gryffindor."

"What happened to my being sorted in Slytherin?" Albus asked, the sarcasm dripping from his tongue.

James smiled at his younger sibling. "Nah… only joking. You're a Potter. You'll be in Gryffindor for sure. And even if being a Potter isn't enough, you're also a Weasley, remember? There's only been one Weasley not sorted into Gryffindor in the past… I don't know… dozen generations, and there's never been a Potter not in Gryffindor ever. So don't worry. You'll do fine." James chucked his brother on the arm, and then walked off. "Enjoy the boat ride!"

"Well, now… Littl' Albus!" Hagrid's booming voice sounded closer than the trio expected and they all jumped. "Sorry 'bout that. Didn't mean to scare ya. It's good to see you, Al… and little Rose as well! Good to see you again, o'course. An' who's your little frien'?"

"Hagrid… I mean Professor Hagrid.", the huge man smiled at Albus's correction. Even after twenty years of teaching, it was obvious to everyone who knew him that the large man still gained a pleasant thrill at the thought of being a Hogwarts professor. "This is my friend, Scorpius Malfoy. Scorpius, this is Professor Hagrid. He teaches Care Of Magical Creatures, and is one of my dad's closest friends! They've known each other forever."

"That I have, that I have." Hagrid leaned down and offered his hand to Scorpius. "So… Malfoy, eh? Your dad would be Draco Malfoy, then?" The half-giant's handshake engulfed the younger boy's hand, but it was gentle and friendly. Scorpius forced himself to relax from the first scare of Hagrid's sudden greeting. The large man seemed to study him for a moment before releasing Scorpius's hand. "Well… well… I'm sure a young gentleman like yerself won't have any troubles at Hogwarts. Not if you're smart eno' to befrien' a Potter on yer firs' day."

Hagrid straightened and called out, "A'right now… all firs' years, follow me t'the boats. This way… follow me…" He led the first years down to a pebble-strewn beach and the white, wooden boats that would take them across the black lake and to their new school. Each boat had a lantern hanging from its prow, bringing a little illumination to the gloom of the lake.

Scorpius grinned as he took it all in. He couldn't believe he was at Hogwarts at last. He couldn't stop himself from staring at everything. Scorpius turned to Albus, to share his feeling of excitement, but his friend had stopped moving. Albus Potter was simply stared into the sky.

Worried, Scorpius followed his friend's gaze and looked to the stars. The darkness of the lake allowed the stars to shine clear, but it was just the stars. "Rose," he asked. "What's the matter with Al? He's just kind of… stopped in place."

Rose looked up. "Oh my. That's pretty." She smiled at the confused look on Scorpius's face. "Didn't you say you grew up in the country?"

"Yeah… we have a house near Salisbury, in Wiltshire. Used to be a farm, though we don't… you know… farm. Why? What does it matter?"

"Al's a city boy. He grew up in Islington. Have you ever been to London? At night you can't see the stars, there's so much light and so many people. I don't think Al's seen the sky like that before in his entire life. My family lives in Sidmouth, in Devon. It's a small town, so we can still see the stars." She tugged on her cousin's sleeve. "Albus… Albus! Come on!" Rose's voice broke Albus from his reverie.

Hagrid waved the children forward. "No more then four t'a boat, now. No more then four t'a boat. Thas' it, now. In yeh go." Albus, Rose, and Scorpius all scrambled into one of the craft. A pretty black girl, who introduced herself as Bianca Anderson, joined them.

"My dad told me that the lake has merpeople in it, and a giant squid, and grindylows," babbled Bianca, clearly nervous. She settled on Scorpius as her 'conversational partner'. "He says that in his seventh year they had some sort of contest and some students had to go swimming to find things down there despite the monsters. Do you think we'll ever have to go swimming down into the water? I'm don't really swim, you see, and I think I'd not do very well at all." She spared a glance at Scorpius, and then continued. "I hope we don't have to actually do any magic to prove we belong here. I haven't done much magic. You know, the usual kid's stuff -- making your toys float and bouncing your baby sister down the hall -- nothing flashy like my parents can do, of course. Is that the giant squid over there? No. Just a branch or something floating in the water. Too bad. I think I might like to see the giant squid. I haven't actually ever seen one before you see. Have either of you seen one? Me neither. I wonder what the teachers…."

Albus leaned toward Rose and whispered. "Sad, really… such a shy, reserved girl. We're going to have to work to draw her out."

"You reckon so?"

Scorpius, on the other hand, looked stricken. With his eyes alone, he signaled for help several times, which caused Rose to actually laugh out loud. She covered herself by turning the laugh into a cough, covering her smile with a hand.

"Oh my," said Bianca. "Are you all right?"

Rose cleared he throat but couldn't bring herself to speak.

"She's fine," Albus said. stopped talking just long enough to ask if Rose was all right, and then started again.

"That Hagrid fellow… is he an ogre or something? Perhaps a part troll? My parents never said anything about an ogre on the Hogwarts staff. I suppose he's a servant of some kind. I mean, look at how he's dressed after all. Maybe a groundsman or a stable master. Oh! Do you think they have horses here? Or maybe unicorns? Or hippogriffs? That would be exciting, to see a unicorn. My mother says there are unicorns in the Forest, but that we're not allowed to go in there because it's dangerous. Look at the castle! Isn't that beautiful?"

It actually took a moment for the other three children to realize the girl had stopped talking. The boats approached close enough for the lights of Hogwarts Castle to become visible. The small fleet passed swiftly beneath the canted bridge and into the old, cave-like passage in the rocky promontory on which the castle itself was built. Ever-burning torches, placed regularly along the walls, lit the cave. Their affect was such that it was just bright enough for the children to see the stone dock ahead. Beyond the dock, a twisting staircase led up to the castle itself.

"Now, when yer boat gets t'the dock, climb ou' and step to the bottom o' the stairs there. Don' go up yet. Yu'll all go up a' once hafter me. Allrigh?" Hagrid's booming voice echoed in the cave as his boat docked. He stepped out and stood, waiting to assist those children who needed help. Albus's boat was the fifth one to dock, and as he was the first one out, he lent a hand to Scorpius, Rose, and Bianca Anderson in turn.

When all of the boats were unloaded, Hagrid counted the assembled first years – twice, just to make sure. "Yep… thirty sevin o' yeh. Alrigh', firs' years… follow me." He trudged his way up the three flights of stairs, walking slowly enough to allow the youngsters behind him to keep up. At the top of the stairway the children found themselves in the entranceway to Hogwarts.

A fat old man stood at the head of the stairway; as the children approached, he gave each and every one a large, friendly smile. "Oh, capital, capital…" To Albus, the man looked a bit like a purple-clad Father Christmas. His beard and moustache were both bushy and white, and Albus took a liking to the man. Whoever he was, he seemed to be friendly.

"The new class of Firs' Years, Professor. All safe an' sound!" Hagrid announced with pride.

The older man nodded. "Thank you, Professor Hagrid, thank you! Wonderful work, as always. I'll see you inside." Hagrid stepped past the students and the old man, and entered through two large double doors. The old man cleared his throat.

"Now… Your attention please? Yes, your attention? Thank you! I am Professor Dunstan. In just a moment, I will escort you through those doors, where you will join your fellow students in our traditional First Night Feast. But before you can do so, you will have to be sorted into one of the four Houses. Those Houses are Hufflepuff, Slytherin, Gryffindor, and Ravenclaw. While you're here at Hogwarts you should strive to see your House as a family of sorts. Do well in your classes and your achievements will earn your House points. Do badly, and your misbehaviour will cost your House points. At the end of the year, the House that has achieved the highest total number of points wins the House Cup."

The old man's face split into a wide grin, and Albus noticed for the first time that the man had dimples. Big, visible, warmth-inspiring dimples. "I'm proud to say that last year, my own Hufflepuff House was the recipient of the Cup, but it was a close race I assure you. Be that as it may, I am sure that you all will perform admirably and bring pride to the long and honourable traditions of your Houses."

He gestured the children forward with a sweep of his arm. "If you would all gather here, I will make sure they're ready for you. Feel free to talk amongst yourselves while I am gone, of course. I'll be back in a jiff!" With that, the Professor left through the same doors Hagrid had passed through.

"Oh my word… the paintings… they're moving!" The surprised voice of one young girl echoed in the large room. She stepped toward the wall, gaping at the portraits hanging there. "It's like… like… _magic_!"

Scorpius looked at Albus, who looked at Rose. "Muggle-born", all three said at once. Rose walked over to the girl and introduced herself. Scorpius continued to take the room in, occasionally nudging Albus to point out a particularly interesting painting.

When Rose returned, she looked white as a sheet. "Al, Scorpius… you have to come over here! Come look at this! Come on! Now!" She grabbed her cousin's hand and tugged. Albus shrugged at Scorpius and followed. Scorpius hesitated for a moment, then followed. To him, it didn't look like his friend Albus had had much of a choice; for an eleven year old, Rose Weasley was very tall, very strongly built, and towered over her cousin. Though Scorpius had no way of knowing, she took after her father in that regard.

When the trio had stopped, Al spoke up. "All right, Rose… What's the matter? What did we need to see?"

The girl just waved her arm toward the wall. "Look! Look at the wall!"

Scorpius couldn't for the life of him think of why a wall of paintings could concern him. This all changed when he saw at what she was pointing. A large bronze plaque, cared for and magically shined, hung in the middle of a wall carrying dozens of portraits. Upon the plaque were three stanzas of a poem. As Scorpius read the words, he recalled his parents and how reluctant they were to ever speak of the last war. He recalled how his grandmother would burst into tears for no reason that he could ever understand. Somehow, despite only being eleven, he got it. He understood.

The words on the plaque almost glowed.

_They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old._

_Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn_

_At the going down of the sun and in the morning_

_We will remember them._

_They mingle not with their laughing comrades again._

_They sit no more at familiar tables at home;_

_They have no lot in our labour of the day-time._

_They sleep beyond England's foam._

_But where our desires are and our hopes profound_

_Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight_

_To the innermost heart of their own land they are known_

_As the stars are known to the Night._

Rose tugged on Albus's sleeve. She pointed at one of the portraits. In it, a tall, lanky red-headed young man smiled down at them and waved.

"Al… I think that's Uncle Fred."


	3. The Sorting Of Scorpius Malfoy

**Chapter Three: **_**The Sorting Of Scorpius Malfoy**_

"Hello Rose! Hello Albus! How was the train ride? Did you have fun? And who is your friend?"

"Hello, Uncle Fred," Rose responded, as she and Albus smiled up at the portrait. "The ride on the train was an interesting experience. This…" she waved in Scorpius's general direction. "… is Scorpius Malfoy, our new friend. We had some sweets, and played Exploding Snap." She put a finger to her lips for a moment, obviously concentrating. "I didn't know you had a portrait at Hogwarts, Uncle Fred. I thought you only had the one that's at the Shop on Diagon Alley."

Albus nudged Rose and pointed to a portrait that contained two people. It was Teddy Lupin's parents. They were higher than Fred's portrait, but waved and smiled anyway.

A group of their new classmates crowded around, and a loud, squeaky boy said, "Oh! I know who that is! That's Severus Snape! Harry Potter himself paid a lot of money to a candy company just to get Snape his own Chocolate Frog card… supposed to be some kind of hero… I've got four o' him, you know!" The other children followed the boy's pointing finger to the portrait of a dark-haired, dour-faced man; his portrait was directly opposite Fred's, on the other side of the plaque.

"So who are the rest of these people? I don't think…" the Chocolate Frog boy seemed to scan the wall of portraits surrounding the plaque. "I don't think any of the others here have Chocolate Frog cards."

"They're named. See?" Rose pointed to Fred's portrait. A small placard on its frame read "Frederick Gideon Weasley, 1978-1998, Gryffindor House". The other portraits on the wall were similarly marked: "Severus Willard Snape, 1960-1998, Slytherin House"; "Colin Ogden Creevey, 1981-1998, Gryffindor House", "Luther Brian Hendridge, 1962-1998, Hufflepuff House". Nearly fifty portraits, all similarly marked, adorned the wall.

Albus turned to say something to Scorpius, and it was only then that he noticed that his friend hadn't joined the other students in staring the portrait wall. Looking around, Al finally spotted the other boy sitting on the top step of the staircase they had just climbed, his back to the entrance hall.

Albus walked over, sat down next to Scorpius and put an arm around his shoulders. "Alright there, Scorpius?"

The physical contact felt strange to Scorpius. It wasn't what he was used to, and it made him just a bit uncomfortable. But he just nodded. "Yeah, alright. Just kind of depressed by it all. They don't get what the wall means, do they?" He looked over at the crowd of first years who were still pointing and commenting on the portrait wall.

Albus looked at them all too. "I don't know, really. Some of them probably do, I'd expect. Most don't yet. The last war was a long time ago… twenty years, almost. That's like forever."

Scorpius stayed quiet. He was thinking about his family. No one in his family had ever really talked about what had gone on, or had really explained what they did during the war. He knew that his father had been involved -- he did know that much -- but the man never actually went into detail about it. And when certain things were mentioned, his father would get angry. Very angry, in some cases. Albus's dad, for example. One just didn't mention Harry Potter around Draco Malfoy, not if one didn't want an argument or a good hexing.

Scorpius knew some things about Harry Potter. Albus's dad was the most famous man in the Wizarding World, after all, and widely thought to be the most powerful wizard alive. Harry Potter was even more famous than Quidditch legend Jonas Gumby, despite Gumby setting an all-time high scoring record last month. Scoring thirty four goals, single-handed, in one match, was a major accomplishment, but it still didn't eclipse Harry Potter for fame. Scorpius had seen some old books and newspapers scattered around his father's study that talked about Harry Potter as "the savior of the wizarding world", but never before had Scorpius wondered just what that meant in regard to his father, or his father's anger at Harry Potter.

"I have no idea what Father did in the war," Scorpius told his new friend. "But I've always suspected that whatever it was, Father was on the wrong side. My father's not poor, but he always mutters around about how things used to be... he told me once that when he was a boy, we didn't live on an old farm. And then there's the fact that everyone hates us…" Scorpius coughed into his hand, carefully eyeing Albus Potter, and secretly dreading what his friend would say.

Albus merely nodded, prompting Scorpius to continue. "And… and… there's a big hospital in my home town, the Fred Weasley Memorial Hospital… believe it or not they even take care of injured and sick Muggles. It's behind this big brick wall with hedges. I looked through the gates one day and there are white peacocks just wandering around the grounds. I think it's a nice hospital and if I ever really get hurt I suppose it wouldn't be too bad to have to go there."

He leaned in, as if conveying a secret. "But Albus… the hospital's main building looks like a big house, not like an actual hospital. And it's got my name… 'Malfoy' I mean… on the front gate. I don't know what it means, but it makes me wonder. It's like… it was a forbidden topic at my house. I wasn't allowed to ask questions about the war, or what Father did during the war, or why my grandfather died in Azkaban, or why my grand-mum was always drun…. um..." Scorpius stopped, almost afraid of saying anything more for fear that Albus would laugh at him. But finally, he went on. "Why my grand-man was always drunk all the time. Father says it killed her, her drinking. I never knew why."

Albus nodded. "I know what that's like, believe me. No one in my family ever talks about the war, other than to tell me that it happened a long time ago. My folks, and my aunts and uncles… they're all supposed to have been these big heroes, but I haven't ever really heard why. I mean… look over there." Albus tipped his head toward the wall quickly. "My Uncle Fred died during the war, but I don't know how, or what happened. His twin brother, my Uncle George, once told me that he'd give me the full story 'when I was old enough', but when is old enough? You know?"

"Yeah." The boys stared at the shadows a moment. They were brought back around when, with a loud clunk, the double doors opened and Professor Dunstan returned.

The old man gestured for the students to come closer. "Now children… if you would form up into two lines, please? Two lines." The first years shuffled around, nervously, until they were roughly in two lines, side by side. Scorpius managed to find a place in line next to Rose, and Albus was in line just ahead of him. He could hear that chatty Anderson girl babbling in a whisper behind him somewhere, and could see the Chocolate Frog card collector in line ahead of Albus.

"Yes, that's it. Yes, well done, children. Well done," Professor Dunstan proclaimed. Scorpius was swiftly becoming convinced that the jovial teacher was the type of old gentleman who could find something to be cheerful about even if he was up to his neck in quicksand and sinking. He'd probably be a fantastic teacher just because of that alone. "Now, children," he continued, "when we enter, we will walk down the centre aisle in two columns, all the way up to the dais in front of the teachers' table. I'll direct you to spread out in front of the head table, so the teachers can all get a good look at you." The old man smiled widely, catching everyone's eye.

Holding up a rolled up length of parchment, Dunstan continued. "I'll call you up one at a time, alphabetically, from this list." Professor Dunstan waggled the list, making sure all the children saw it. "You'll sit on the stool; I'll place the Sorting Hat on your head; and after you're sorted you can join your Housemates for the feast. Won't that be nice? Now, children… follow me!"

The students followed Professor Dunstan into the Great Hall. Four long tables stood, two to a side, between which a long aisle formed. The air above the tables was filled with hundreds of lit candles, floating unsupported. Above the candles hung a row of banners, each a yellow-ochre and featuring a heraldic badger. Rose leaned toward Scorpius and whispered: "That's the Hufflepuff crest. Professor Dunstan said that his house won the House Cup last year. I suppose that's the reason for the banners."

Scorpius wasn't listening. His attention was on Albus, who had suddenly slowed considerably. The other boy's attention was on the stars… the ceiling of the Great Hall of Hogwarts was enchanted to perfectly simulate the actual sky, and tonight was a clear, crisp summer night. As before on the shores of the black lake, Albus had become captivated by the stars. Scorpius smirked and grabbed his friend by the shoulders, carefully guiding him and preventing him from smacking into someone else. Albus looked down and smiled thanks.

There were other distractions, in any case. Albus and Rose waved toward the inner, right-side table. Scorpius quickly surmised that the table in question was the Gryffindor table; not only was Albus's older brother James sitting there, but James was surrounded by a mass of red-haired children that must have been the extended Weasley-Potter clan. Rose had mentioned that she and Albus had 'about a dozen' cousins and siblings all attending. The pack of kids returned the greetings with a friendly wave or nod as the two newest members of the family to become Hogwarts students marched up to the front of the Hall for sorting.

The columns of First Years reached the open space before the dais and spread out as directed. In front of them sat a wooden stool, and upon it was the most ragged hat any of them had seen. The hat was so old it was purple in some spots, threadbare and patched, with black, sooty, singed places along its crown. On the whole, it looked like something that had been left too close to a fire for far too long.

The assembled children all started when a tear in the hat, near its band, opened wide and the hat began to sing. Scorpius didn't pay much attention to the song… he was too busy looking around to pay much attention. He spotted Hagrid, the giant of a man they had met at the train station, seated on one end of the teachers' table next to a dark-skinned woman in a tall, violet witch's hat.

Past a mad-looking gypsy woman sitting at Hagrid's elbow sat a soft-looking man to whom Albus and Rose gave a jaunty wave as well. The man, obviously a teacher, gave the cousins a nod and a quick smile, but covered it swiftly with a mask of emotionless sincerity. It was obvious the man knew his two new friends, but he was obviously just being official… it wouldn't do for the professor to show any favouritism, even to two children he obviously was friendly with.

Rose nudged him to get his attention. The sorting had just begun, with Professor Dunstan calling Bianca Anderson up to the stool. The girl looked unconcerned until the hat was placed upon her head. Her eyes popped open as wide as they could be, and her mouth formed a shocked "O". After a handful of seconds, the tear in the hat opened up and it called out, "HUFFLEPUFF!" Everyone applauded as she went to join her new housemates, the students at the Hufflepuff table most of all.

The three friends all nervously awaited their turn. Scorpius eyed the Slytherin table; the older students, whom Scorpius assumed were all sixth or seventh year, including McCorkindale and his cronies, were all staring right at him. When they noticed him studying them, they all smiled and nudged each other and made comments to each other. Scorpius sighed. He'd best get ready to start ducking… he knew once he was sorted there, he'd be in for it.

Albus, on the other hand, kept looking nervously over at the Gryffindor table. Scorpius had told him about his brother's teasing. He had heard James Potter tell his little brother that he had been kidding about Slytherin, but it was clear to Scorpius that Al was worried that now, at the last minute, something was going to go wrong and Albus would be put in Slytherin House by mistake.

Scorpius turned back to the Slytherin table. He studied it with a look of resigned hopelessness on his face. The Malfoy boy sympathized with his friend's anxiety. He knew that Albus was, like himself, feeling the entire weight of his family on his shoulders. And there was absolutely nothing to be done about it.

On the other hand, Rose didn't seem to be worried about a thing. She was calmly awaiting her turn, and showed no signs of nervousness or fright at the possibility of being put in 'the wrong place'. Since the professor was calling them all out alphabetically, she'd be near the end of the line. "_Of the three of us_," Scorpius thought to himself, "_I'll be sorted first, followed by Potter a bit later, then Rose at the tail ends_."

Scorpius watched as watched as Edward LaGarande joined the Ravenclaw table. His gaze traveled over the other Ravenclaws, just taking in all the faces. At the far end, close to the teacher's table, sat his guardian angel, Dahlia. He'd never thanked her for assisting him, and for some reason he felt an overwhelming need to do so. She caught his glance and smiled at him for a moment, before returning her attention to the boy next to her. It did confuse him… why would she be so nice to him? She didn't even know him, after all.

The boy next to him nudged him in the side. Scorpius turned to Albus with a questioning look. "Scorpius, they just called you…" Albus looked a bit scandalized.

"Mister Malfoy? Scorpius Malfoy? Come on, lad… no need to worry…" Professor Dunstan had seen many a first year come close to panic during the sorting. He tried to be soothing. "Come on up. It's your turn."

It seemed to Scorpius Malfoy that every step he took toward the stool and the sorting had taken forever. His legs felt leaden, as if they were chained to heavy weights. But soon enough, he took his place on the stool.

_**Ah… another proud child of the ancient Malfoy line…**_

The voice sounded between his ears and all around him. The hat was talking to him! In his head, the hat was talking directly to him! Scorpius realized instantly that it must have been talking to the other students also, but that since he hadn't heard a word it must be only a mental communication!

_**Well… this is interesting, isn't it? I haven't had to take this long to sort a Malfoy in… well… never you mind how long it's been. You have your family's sense of ambition and cleverness, but not their thirst for power. You've an agile mind, no doubt about that. You're determined to not let your friends down… that's good, Mister Malfoy… dependability and loyalty are always in short supply… and you've a drive to do what's right with no fear for the consequences… so… where to put you?**_

The hat paused for a moment, and then continued.

_**I can see your overt aversion to your father's old House, so despite my initial impulse to drop you in amongst the Slytherin, I must carefully consider… where shall you go? Outside of the Slytherins, the Malfoys are pariah. It's almost expected of a Malfoy…**_

Scorpius set his jaw as he responded to the hat's almost sarcastic commentary. "_"I don't give a fig for what's expected of a Malfoy. I want to be with my friends, even if everyone hates me for it!"_

_**Well, young man… with spirit and determination like that, there's only one place to put you.**_

Scorpius felt the tear open wide, and the crotchety, ancient voice of the hat called out "GRYFFINDOR!"

Scorpius's breath escaped him in an excited gasp. He hadn't even been aware he'd been holding it. He stood up from the stool and waited. The entire Great Hall was utterly silent for a moment, and then angry murmurs could be heard from the Slytherin table. The students at the Gryffindor table simply stared at him, wide-eyed. Scorpius suddenly felt like something had gone drastically wrong. Professor Dunstan seemed to catch himself, nodded without smiling, and removed the hat.

Scorpius ran to the first open seat at the Gryffindor table, his head held high and his chin set. _They aren't going to see me react, _he told himself. _I'm a Gryffindor, now and forever._

The clapping surprised him. Over the murmuring, disrupting the silence came a determined, enthusiastic clapping. Scorpius lifted his head to see the mousy-looking professor who had nodded to Rose and Albus standing in front of his chair, clapping and smiling. The instructor's welcoming, friendly smile told the boy that everything would be okay. Over at the Ravenclaw table, Dahlia stood and began clapping as well. That started the cascade as the other Gryffindors applauded his inclusion in their house.

An older Gryffindor boy, sixth or perhaps seventh year, leaned past the new Gryffindor First Years and extended a hand. "Welcome to Gryffindor. Congratulations. Never thought you'd have it in you." The boy was grinning, and his welcome seemed genuine. "I'm Fred Weasley."

Scorpius was confused for a moment. "Weasley? You mean like Rose?" Scorpius pointed to the thinning crowd of unsorted First Years.

"I'm her cousin, yeah. Why? Can't you see the family resemblance?"

Scorpius admitted he couldn't. Fred Weasley was tall, like several of the other Weasleys including Rose, but where the other Weasleys he'd seen were redheaded, light-skinned, and freckled, Fred had dread-locked hair of burnt umber, and his café-au-lait skin had nary a freckle to be seen.

Scorpius felt rather than saw someone sit on his far side, at the first empty spot on the bench. He turned, immediately smiling as Albus sat down. The newly-arrived boy was talking a mile a minute. "This is brilliant! We're in the same House! This year is going to be fantastic! Oh, hello Fred!" The older boy waved and laughed. Albus's cheerfulness was infectious. "I guess now all we need to do is wait for Rose."

"So um… sorry, I missed your sorting, Albus." Scorpius was sheepish. He didn't mean to miss his friend's sorting. "So Fred's really your cousin?"

Albus merely nodded. "Yeah, of course… can't you see the family resemblance?" The way it rolled trippingly off of Albus's tongue, and the fact that Fred used the same line word for word, told Scorpius that the line was an old, moss-covered joke amongst his family. Scorpius was more attentive as the remaining students were sorted. Scorpius worried that Rose Weasley might end up somewhere else. She was the last to be called, and Scorpius quickly realized he shouldn't have worried. It took no time whatsoever for the hat to send Rose to the Gryffindor table.

A tiny man with long, grey hair stood on his chair at the center of the teachers' table. Scorpius was amused to see the man seemed to be balanced on a stack of books. The man picked up his goblet and rang it thrice with a spoon. "Congratulations, congratulations. Well done, First Years. For those of you who are new to Hogwarts, let me welcome you. I am Professor Flitwick, your Headmaster. Before we start what I am sure will be a magnificent welcoming feast, I'd like to make a few start-of-term announcements."

The Headmaster cleared his throat. "To begin with, the Forbidden Forest is, as the name indicates, off limits for all students."

"Secondly, our caretaker Mister Filch," Scorpius followed the Headmaster's pointed hand to where an ancient, almost doddering man stood near one of the side doors, "has informed me that he has posted his yearly list of banned items." The Headmaster smiled. "Those regular customers of the Weasley joke shop can thus find a list of their mail-order products by reading that list."

"And lastly, Professor Longbottom", the Headmaster gestured aside, and the meek-looking professor who clapped for Scorpius's sorting stood for a moment, "has announced that those students wishing to enter the Dueling Club this year should inform him no later than the first of October. Just as a reminder, the Dueling Club is only open to fourth years and above. Now, let's tuck in, and let's all have a great year this year!"

The Frog card collector, whose name had turned out to be David Creevey, leaned into the table from his position across from Scorpius. "That was Neville Longbottom? _The_ Neville Longbottom? The Serpent Slayer? Caretaker of the Sword of Godric Gryffindor himself? One of only three people to have dueled Lord Voldemort single-handedly and survived? Him?" The boy seemed scandalized. "That can't be him! He looks like a gardener!"

James Potter reached out and grabbed the front of the boy's robes in one hand. He pulled the new Gryffindor close and growled, "He _is_ a gardener, Creevey. He's an _amazing_ gardener. He teaches Herbology. But even more important than his being a gardener, he's your Head of House, and he's the bravest, most powerful, most dangerous wizard in the world after my dad. So show some respect, all right?"

The Creevey boy just nodded in response, obviously gob smacked. Scorpius grinned at his friend's brother. James stared for a moment, then grinned widely back. The older boy gave Scorpius a thumbs-up, and then nodded to Albus as the food suddenly appeared on the table. All of the kids dove right in, attacking the platters with gusto.

Scorpius was in the middle of his third helping of roast chicken with potatoes before he thought to wonder what his father was going to say when he found out where he had been Sorted.


	4. Pancakes and Panic Attacks

**Chapter Four: **_**Pancakes and Panic Attacks**_

"You know, you don't have to do that." Ginevra Potter smiled at her husband. "Merlin knows, you complain about it enough. Hire a service already." She smiled at her daughter, who was holding a cup of milk expectantly. "Okay, Lily… you can add the milk now."

Ginny broke open eggs into the mixing bowl and began whisking them together with flour and sugar. With the seriousness that only a nine-year-old whose been asked to help cook could muster, Lily carefully poured the milk. The concentration the girl was displayed almost made Ginny laugh, but she knew that Lily would hardly appreciate it.

Harry watched the two of them together for a moment before turning his attention back to the mail. This morning there were a dozen or so letters waiting for him when he awoke, just as there had been every morning since his defeat of Voldemort at the Battle of Hogwarts. Occasionally, there was an actual serious piece of correspondence… but most of it was simply fan mail.

Smiling at the serene picture his wife and daughter created, he said, "I know... I know… I admit that the service you use doesn't cost much, and it's not like we couldn't afford expanding our account to handle my mail as well… but it just seems to be so impersonal. A form letter response and an autographed picture. I mean really, such impersonal contact with your fans might be fine for a retired Quidditch star, but when you're the Savior of the Wizarding World, shouldn't you be more… Savior-like?"

Ginny laughed and returned his grin by sticking her tongue out at him. She knew that he hated the titles with which the press had him labeled. She waved her wand toward the stove and a ladle spread clarified butter onto a griddle that was swiftly heating itself to the proper temperature.

Harry scanned the names and addresses on the letters. Most were from people he'd never heard of before. "Ah… got another letter from Aubrey Maturin… his writing is a good sign. Perhaps I'll check with his doctors to make sure he's well enough for visitors."

At the stove, Ginny was carefully dropping the batter onto the griddle. Next to her, Lily watched the entire process from a safe distance. "That would be wonderful, Harry. Such a sad case. I do hope he's doing better."

Aubrey was one of the elite few fans that the Potters had actually sought out to meet for one reason or another. The reason in Aubrey's case was simple: the boy was an orphan and terminally ill. The one thing he had wanted more than anything else in the world was to meet his hero, Harry Potter, something that Harry couldn't bring himself to refuse. Not only had Harry befriended the boy, he paid for any medical care the child had needed.

"And here we go… a letter apiece from James and Albus. " Harry carefully set aside the rest of the letters and concentrated on the mail from his sons. James had started his second year at Hogwarts the day before. For Albus, on the other hand, this was the first time being away from home for school.

Lily came over to her father. "James first, daddy! He's the oldest, so he goes first." Harry smirked at the directive tone in his daughter's voice. It was common, he had found out, for some young children to be very legalistic… they made up rules for every occasion, sometimes at the drop of a hat, and expected the people around them to follow those rules. Rather than being the trouble-maker her older brother seemed to becoming, Lily looked to be on her way to following in her Uncle Percy's footsteps.

"Lily," Ginny said. "Sit down and eat your breakfast."

Harry lifted his arms as he opened James' letter. Ginny placed a plate of Scotch pancakes, already slathered in jam, in front of him. She placed another plate at Lily's customary place. "So… what does James have to say for himself?"

Harry reread the letter, his cheerful grin slowly spreading to include his entire face. So intent was he on his son's letter than he never noticed he was speaking. It wasn't very loud, but his daughter heard him anyway. "Oh my… Malfoy is going to shit flobberworms when he hears about this."

Lily – a living example of the saying "little pitchers have big ears" – immediately perked up. She thought about the meaning of what her Dad just said, and while she thought she understood, it wasn't totally clear. "Mum, what does Daddy mean when he says Malfoy is going to shit flobberworms?"

Ginny turned back to the table, nearly dropping her own plate. "LILY LUNA POTTER! That is no language for well-behaved children to use! I don't ever want to hear that sort of talk come out of your mouth again! And YOU!"

Harry looked up from the letter, unaware of what he had done, but very aware that he had done _something _to upset his wife.

"You will watch your language. Harry, for… I… Watch your language from now on, especially in front of the children!" Harry's confused look defused the situation almost instantly. Ginny coughed, and then sat up straighter before cutting into her pancakes. Calmer, she addressed her daughter. "Lily… that word isn't for polite use at the breakfast table. Don't say it again."

Lily was confused for a moment. "Don't say what? Shi…"

"DON'T." Ginny's eyes flared in exasperation. "Yes, that word. Don't say it again."

Harry just sat there, looking sheepish. "Sorry about that, Gin. Just slipped out, I suppose. Um… James sends his regards, and has some surprising news. Just caught me off guard."

"Well," Ginny prompted. "Let's hear it. What does it say?"

Harry took a bite of his pancakes, nodded, and began to read:

_Dear Mom and Dad,_

_Al and I (and Rosie) have all made it to Hogwarts safe and sound. The train ride was boring. I spent most of it reading one of my new textbooks and watching my younger brother, my cousin, and their new best friend Scorpius Malfoy playing cards. They invited me to play but I thought it was best to not get involved. I stayed alert, just in case the slimy git tried to attack them by surprise._

_It was really disgusting, Dad. Malfoy and Al were thick as thieves, the two of them. Made me wonder if all those jokes about Al being a Slytherin weren't so much jokes as real life. HA HA. Just joking… Al made it into Gryffindor just like Mom said he would._

_I rode up to the castle with Roxanne and Louis. Roxy says she's going to try out for one of the Chaser positions opening up this year. She figures she's a lock, since Fred's Quidditch Captain this year, but I think she's dreaming. Just because he's her brother doesn't mean he won't make her try out and all. She also says that she's thinking of asking Horace Hubbard to go with her to Hogsmeade, since she can go there on the weekends this year. Horace is that boy I told you about, with the nose, and the pimples. What she sees in him I don't know._

_I didn't get to tell Dominique about that thing we talked about that day, but I will the first chance I get, I promise._

_Hagrid and Uncle Neville… I mean Professor Longbottom… both say "Hi." Hagrid also wanted me to tell Mom that he thinks he found the shoe you lost at the last Victory Day party, whatever that means._

_With Love,_

_James._

_PS. Malfoy actually managed to get sorted into Gryffindor. Is that the greatest prank ever, or what? It turns out he's pretty much okay, and not a slimy git at all. He's got a great sense of humor and can keep up with me when it comes to talking Quidditch, even though he says he never plays._

While her father spoke, Lily managed to stuff nearly half of a pancake into her mouth. She chewed a couple of times and then said, "Fred's nice. I know he's going to let Roxy play Quidditch. She's brilliant. She's the best chaser in the fambly." She suddenly looked sheepish. "Except you, Mommy. You're the best Chaser ever!"

"That's okay, Lily… Roxy is pretty good." Ginny stared at Harry for a moment before chuckling. "Oh my. A Malfoy in Gryffindor. Whatever will the society pages say?" She suppressed a laugh. She knew that she shouldn't find the situation so humorous, but she also knew that she simply couldn't help herself. "So… what does Albus's letter say?"

Harry sipped his tea and took another bite of pancake, then opened the second letter.

_Dear Mom and Dad,_

_I was worried that I wouldn't make any friends at Hogwarts but can you believe it I made one right after we left the train station! His name is Scorpius Malfoy and he's great! He and I played Exploding Snap with Rose. Rose likes him too. He sat in our compartment because he was thrown out of his own. They even threw his trunk out into the passage. He'd probably have stayed there but the Head Girl, her name's Dahlia, she came by and put him in our compartment, which is why we met him. I think he's going to be my best friend. We talked to Uncle Fred's portrait in the Entrance Hall, and met Professor Dunstan who is my favorite teacher so far! And you'll never believe it! All three of us were sorted into Gryffindor! Me, Rosie, and Scorpius_

_I told Scorpius to call me Al like everybody in the family does. We're trying to think of a good nickname for him, but Scorpius isn't that easy a name to make shorter. Plus, his middle name is horrid, so there's no help there. I don't know why his mom and dad thought Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy made a good name. Scorpius told me last night that when he grew up and got married and had kids, he's going to name them normal names like Joseph or David or Edward. I thought that was a pretty good idea._

_Speaking of David, there's a boy in my year that is mental for Chocolate Frog cards. He says he once saved up nearly fifty galleons to buy one of Dad's Chocolate Frog cards that had dad's autograph on it. He wants to know if I can get Mom to autograph one for him. Just to get him to leave me alone I told him I'd ask, so Mom, let me know if you mind signing a Chocolate Frog card. I didn't promise him anything, if that's what you're thinking. I'm hoping he doesn't realize that Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron have frog cards too._

_I'll write again on Saturday and let you know how my classes went. Hogwarts is great!_

_Love,_

_Albus S. Potter, Gryffindor House_

Harry looked at Ginny with a question in his eyes. Ginny looked back for a moment, then sighed and seemed to sink into herself. "Alright. Fine." She stood from the table and walked out of the kitchen. Harry finished his pancake, and then poured himself some more tea, listening to her rummage around their shared office.

He opened the first of his fan letters and skimmed it. The usual. "Dear Harry…" funny how being a fan always put you on a first name basis… "I've always been a blah blah blah… ever since you… blah blah blah…" He took another sip of his tea and without looking up called "Bottom drawer of your desk, right hand side, dear." He continued reading. "Love, Miranda Gump, Leicester. Hmm…. Put that one in the form letter and autographed picture pile."

Ginny returned to the kitchen carrying a quill, a bottle of ink, and a Chocolate Frog card. It had always embarrassed her somewhat to admit that they kept a small horde of the cards featuring themselves in the house, but she did have to admit that it made it loads easier when someone asked for an autographed card, yet forgot to send them a card to autograph. Of course, they only supplied cards to children when they asked. Adults could go out and purchase their own bloody cards, couldn't they.

Ginny signed the card with a flourish, and then handed it over to Harry for inclusion when he wrote their reply. She hoped it wouldn't become a habit, signing cards for their children's friends. "Well, at least Albus isn't wasting any time settling into school. That's good." She could only imagine what was going on at the Malfoy house this morning, if they received similar letters.

**XxxxxxX**

Hermione ate her toast and jam hurriedly as she read the letter from her daughter Rose. Ron, attending to the dirty dishes, saw her left eyebrow rise. It was followed by the smirk that Ron recognized as being his wife's reaction to something that was rather more interesting that straight amusing. This puzzled Ron. He couldn't image what could have happened in his daughter's trip to Hogwarts that would cause that reaction. No Dark Lord's had risen since the fall of Voldemort. No escapees from Azkaban. Nothing dangerous. So what could have happened?

Nightmare images of his little Rosie meeting a smooth-talking, Dark Arts-loving, blond haired Slytherin Lothario and falling madly into the eleven-year-old equivalent to true love flashed before his eyes, but he dismissed them quickly. Rosie had inherited her mother's brains, and those brains included enough intelligence to see when a snake was being a snake. He worried for a moment that one of his nephews or nieces had been injured or was involved in some misbehavior, then dismissed those worries as well. Hermione would have said something already.

At last, he couldn't restrain himself any longer. "So… what does Rosie say?" Hermione looked up at him, and Ron could see the wheels spinning behind her eyes. He could see it. She was wondering how much to tell him and how much to just let him find out on his own.

"Well…" Hermione began, "she starts her letter with an in-depth description of the train. She rode all the way up with James and Albus, and she's made a new friend who shared their compartment. Oh… and she said 'Hi' to Fred's portrait on the Remembrance Wall. And she was sorted into Gryffindor."

Ron watched his wife for a moment. "Go on."

Hermione grimaced. "Well, apparently her new friend was a first year boy who got bullied by some Slytherins. The head girl apparently came to this boy's rescue and put him in with Rosie and James and Albus. She spent the ride up playing exploding snap and getting to know this boy, so apparently she has a new friend. The boy got sorted into Gryffindor too, it seems."

Ron almost snarled. "The Slytherins bullying around a first year boy… that sounds familiar. I suppose Draco Malfoy's son was at the heart of it, was he?"

Hermione nodded, rereading the letter. "Actually, it appears that he was."

Ron's anger grew. "I knew I was right telling her to avoid that Malfoy boy. Can't trust them for a moment, can you. Not even all the way to Hogwarts and Malfoy's son is bullying around other First Years."

"Ron."

"I will never, not to my dying day, understand what drove Harry to testify in Draco Malfoy's defense. Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater, I say."

"Ron!"

"So… does she say what Longbottom is planning to do about Scorpius Malfoy and his band of bullies? I mean, it would be Neville's job, since their victim was sorted…"

"RON!"

"… Into Gryffindor. What? What's the matter, Hermione?" Ron looked puzzled, as he often did when she derailed one of his carefully crafted rants.

"Scorpius Malfoy wasn't one of the bullies. He was the victim of bullying Rose and Albus befriended. Don't you understand, Ron? Scorpius Malfoy was sorted into Gryffindor!"

Ron sat for a moment, his jaw working up and down in that same blank way that cattle do. Then his eyes brightened up and he laughed. "Well… that's good then. It's good that they stood up for someone who needed standing up for. I'm right proud of her. I'm sure he'll be a credit to our old House." Ron's eyes twinkled. "Plus, this is sure to give Draco Malfoy a case of the winds."

Hermione opened her mouth to admonish her husband. He really was quite childish in some ways, despite being nearly forty years old. Before she could even begin, Ron's demeanor changed.

"Of course, he growled, "if she ends up marrying him, I'll disown her."

**XxxxxxX**

Draco Malfoy found he couldn't speak. His anger had verged into absolute apoplexy. He reread his son's letter for the seventh time since its arrival. Opening his mouth the second time to say something, he found once again that nothing would come.

"Draco… whatever is the matter?" Astoria Malfoy, poised as always, sat at the other end of the table, a cream-coated strawberry perched at the end of her fork. She could tell something had gone drastically wrong, but Draco hadn't said anything. "Is our son all right? What does he say, Draco?"

Draco's expression hardened. "What does he say? What does he say? Only that he's spit on hundreds of years of heritage and tradition." He angrily thrust the letter across the table to her. "Read it for yourself!" He stood and walked out of their dining room.

Astoria read slowly through the letter, enjoying her strawberries and cream as she did so. "Oh… Gryffindor… well…" Astoria herself, as most of the people in her family, had been a Slytherin when she attended Hogwarts. But her family had also produced several Ravenclaws, a small handful of Hufflepuffs, and even a rare Gryffindor or two throughout the course of its history. Things like family tradition and blood purity had never mattered as much to the Greengrasses as it did to her husband's family.

"Honestly, Draco…" she began as her husband strode back into the room. As she spoke he took up his silver-headed walking stick and traveling cloak while she continued reading the letter. "So for the first time in anyone's memory, the Noble House of Malfoy has prod…" Her voice failed her suddenly.

"Astoria, I'm going to Hogwarts and see about getting this error corrected. I shall be back as soon as I can." Draco was still livid, but he'd decided on a course of action.

Before he could leave, she stopped him with her eyes. Her voice was pure basilisk venom. "Sit." When she truly wished to, Astoria Malfoy could lace her voice with iron. "Now."

Draco Malfoy glared at his wife. He hated being told what to do. He had always hated being told what to do. But in eighteen years of marriage to Astoria, the one thing he had learned was when not to argue with her. This was obviously going to be one of those times.

He set aside his walking stick and sat. His roiling emotions played over his face like storm clouds in autumn. "Astoria. Darling." He had learned the trick of enunciating each word separately and precisely from his father. It was a useful trick when you couldn't afford to raise your voice to someone.

"Draco…. He's met… and worse, been befriended by… that slut Parkinson's bastard whelp. Putting a stop to that imbroglio is much more important than some fool's errand trying to get Scorpius resorted. Do you understand me? I don't want him anywhere near that tart!

"I hardly think that this is the time to bring up old…"

Astoria rolled her eyes. "Oh do be quiet, Draco. By Merlin, there are times you are thicker than marble." She closed her eyes, placed her palms on the table and counted to twenty, in Latin. When she was calmer, she looked back at her husband. "Really… storming up to Hogwarts and whining to Rajapaksa, Flitwick, and worst of all Longbottom won't accomplish a thing and you know it. They'd just tell you the same thing I'm telling you now: your son is a Gryffindor, and you'll have to either accept that fact, or else disown the child and hope that the next one…" her eyes narrowed dangerously, "… if there is a next one… follows in your family's grand tradition of being exclusively Slytherin."

She watched her husband's face, and then intentionally added a note of sympathy to her voice. "Do you remember my cousin? Cyril? He was there at our eighteenth anniversary party? He was in Gryffindor House, you know. And I seem to remember you saying that he was… what were your exact words again? Draco?" Astoria smiled. It wasn't a friendly smile, but rather was the self-satisfied smirk of someone who knew they had just won a point.

Draco sighed and rubbed his forehead with a gloved hand. "Yes, I remember. I said that he was 'an all right sort of chap' and that he should come round for dinner some time."

Astoria nodded. "So. Now that is settled, let's discuss something much more important. What do you intend to do about Parkinson's larva apparently deciding to take our son under her wing?"

Draco was still rubbing his forehead. His headache was only getting worse. "And what would you have me do, Astoria?"

"Forbid him from associating with her." Astoria couldn't understand why her husband was being so stupid about it all. He always had been more of a pretty boy than a great intellect, and she accepted that when she married him. Added to his abrasive personality, his less than stellar intelligence occasionally caused her to regret what was, essentially, a political marriage. She was fond enough of Draco Malfoy, but no one could ever accuse them of being overly loving to each other.

"Tell him… _tell him anything_, Draco. Tell him that her family and ours have always been at knife-point with each other. Tell him she's a plague-carrier, for all that I care, Draco. Just stop him from associating with her."

"There's every possibility that nothing will be said, you know." Draco finally looked up. He stared into Astoria's eyes and immediately regretted saying anything. His wife was now angrier than ever.

"Draco… do you remember the talk we had right after we first got married? Do you remember the arrangement we made?" Astoria lifted her cup and took a sip of her tea. She made face and returned the cup to the table. "I hate cold tea," she muttered.

Draco shifted in his chair. This was not a conversational direction in which he was comfortable traveling. "Of course I --"

"Good." She interrupted curtly. "And what were the rules of the arrangement, Draco?"

He fumed. With one hand he resumed rubbing, just above his left temple. "Astoria…"

"What were the rules, Draco?" She was glaring at him now.

He sat in silence for a moment. "Fine." He took a deep breath. "Rule One: We must be discreet. Rule Two: Our children must never hear a word of it. Rule Three: We never acknowledge it if someone does find out. And…" he trailed off.

Astoria glared again. "And Rule Four: No bastard children! Remind me again, Draco… which one of us violated rule four?"

He at least had the good grace to look guilty about it. "If it is that much of a concern to you, you tell him."

This, however, was not something Astoria was prepared to do. "Oh no… this is the bed you've made. Now you must lie in it."


	5. Wise Teachers And Pretty Girls

**Chapter Five: **_**Wise Teachers and Pretty Girls**_

Albus, Scorpius, and Rose climbed the steps to the third floor classrooms, chatting away about what they'd seen that morning and the night before. All three had been lived their entire lives in magical households, but Hogwarts was simply something else entirely. Everywhere the three looked, there were portraits to talk to, suits of armor that moved in their alcoves, and other interesting things that seemed engineered to steal the attention of an eleven year old child.

"Are you sure this is the right floor, Rose?" Albus yawned impressively, showing all of his teeth. "I'd hate to be late for our first class…"

"Victoire said it was this way, didn't she? She's been here for seven years, Albus… I think she knows her way around the castle by now."

Albus recognized his Aunt Hermione in Rose whenever his cousin acted this way. Aunt Hermione couldn't stand it when she was questioned on what she did or didn't know either, so Rose came by it honestly at least. He stopped suddenly and yawned again, and this time threw in a stretch that started at his toes.

"You okay, mate? You look peaked." Scorpius led them around a corner, then nodded and pointed at the line of first years waiting beside the classroom door. They were the last three students to join.

"I stayed up after you went to bed. I got started talking to Sir Nicholas and lost track of time." Albus covered his yawn with his hand this time. "I couldn't help it. He's got some great stories."

"Yeah?" Scorpius never really interacted with a ghost before, and Nearly-Headless Nick seemed a friendly sort. "What kind of stories?"

"Well, he told me one about my dad and a basilisk. Did you know there used to be a basilisk in a secret dungeon under the castle? Yeah… my dad apparently fought it his second year. Killed it too! With that sword that hangs over the fireplace in the common room. And then there was the time my Uncle George and My Uncle Fred…" Albus began to continue, but was interrupted.

"All right now, students… in you go!" Rose, Scorpius, and Albus all turned to see a kindly-looking woman standing by the door. "We'd hate to see you get so close to your proper room so early, and yet still be late to class would we? Especially seeing as it is your first day." The teacher, who was smiling all the while, held the door for them as they trooped inside.

They found three seats together near the middle of the classroom and sat as the matronly teacher strode to the front of the room. "Good morning class, good morning class. Yes, good morning. It is simply wonderful to see such bright young faces on such a fine day as this one!" She waved her wand at the blackboard and the name "Professor Anydots" appeared in a curvy handwritten script.

The professor's smile was genuine and infectious; without thinking about it, nearly every child in the classroom found themselves smiling back at her. She was a plump woman, but not fat; her copper-colored hair was pulled up and back out of her face, and then rolled into a bun, but several strands had managed to escape and hung, framing her face. To Albus, Professor Anydots resembled his grandmother Molly. The professor dressed comfortably in homey, tan and black robes that, to his eleven year old mind, were the sort of things Grandmas were supposed to wear. The white apron cemented the image.

Professor Anydots puttered around on her desk for a moment; the desk seemed cluttered with books, papers, and various racks of corked vials and jars. "Ah. Here we are then." She turned around with a sheet of parchment in her hands and proceeded to call the roll for the class. When everyone was accounted for, she rolled the class roster into a tube and casually tossed it over her shoulder and onto her desk without looking.

She smiled up at the class, making sure to meet each student's eyes. "Welcome, students, to your first day of introductory potion-making! Now… what we'll be doing in this class is give you a basic grounding for your later potions classes. We'll study things like the proper methods of preparing your ingredients, the correct range of temperatures for your potions, proper wrist motions while stirring, and so on. Once all of you future potions masters and mistresses are ready, we'll even brew a few potions!"

Albus exchanged a look with Scorpius. All around them, the other first years were doing the same. Professor Anydots just laughed. She recognized the looks that were creeping onto the students' faces. "Oh, I know, it all sounds frightfully boring, but I assure you, with what you learn in this class, there's no reason why all of you can't get an Outstanding on your Potions OWL in our fifth year together!"

The professor waved her wand again, this time toward the class, and before each of them appeared a pile of large, dark green leaves and a silver knife. "We'll start with basic knife techniques. One of the things you always have to remember when using your knife to slice or chop ingredients is that there is no such thing as a dull blade! Always assume that it is sharp, and you'll always be careful with it! So... say after me: Safety first. Safety last. Safety always!" She looked each student in the eye as they repeated her words. "Is that the best you can do? Honestly… I've heard more enthusiasm from the suits of armor in the hallway! Come on, then… Louder! Safety first…"

**XxxxxxX**

As they walked down the stairs two hours later, Albus pointedly discussed lunch. He hadn't eaten much that morning for breakfast, and was now, he assured his companions, well-and-truly famished.

Scorpius looked dubious. "I don't know how much I can eat right now." He tentatively sniffed at his hands. The odor of the many cyclamens leaves they had just sliced, "using a curvy, forward, rocking motion" in the words of Professor Anydots, clung to his fingers and it was ruining his appetite. "I'm not ever going to get this stink off my hands."

"I thought it was brilliant," Rose added enthusiastically. She practically skipped down the stairs, much to the amusement of her friends. "Albus, did she feel like Grandma to you? She wasn't mean, even when you messed up and cut the leaves… what did she call it? Chiffanade? Anyway, you were supposed to cut them julienne."

Albus flushed with embarrassment as they stepped into the Great Hall. "Don't remind me."

Rose continued to gush. "And that 'spider' thing she taught us to do with our fingers while cutting the leaves… I bet that saves a lot of us from getting cuts. She laughed. "To think dad said that I'd hate potions class…"

They sat at the Gryffindor table, Albus once again proclaiming his status as a famine victim. Despite his earlier words, Scorpius helped himself to a heaping portion of steak-and-kidney pie. He was on his third bite when Albus nudged him and pointed upward.

The mail had arrived.

Dozens of owls swooped around the Hall, dropping letters and packages hither and yon. One large and impressive bird Scorpius recognized as belonging to his father. The boy swallowed his bite of pie and blanched. "Uh-oh. I guess Mother and Father got my letter…"

Albus followed the flight of the large bird, all the while spooning fried egg and beans into his mouth. "Ooo tol' 'im oo urn Grfgrr?"

Rose looked disgusted. "Albus, please. I know you suffer from having James as an older brother, but a few manners, please." She watched as the owl dropped an envelope on their table. It landed with one of its points down, neatly spearing through the puff-pastry that topped Scorpius' pie.

Albus swallowed. "Hey, at least it's not a howler. That means it can't be that bad, right?"

Scorpius shook his head. "Dad wouldn't send a howler. It would make him look bad. No, he'll make this nice and private." The boy pulled the envelope out of his lunch and wiped at the corner with the tablecloth. "Albus, if he tells me I can't come home, do you think your folks would let me move in with you?"

"What's this about moving in with us?" James sat down on the other side of Malfoy. The older boy stared at the envelope for a second, reading the address. "Oh, I see… you told them you got into Gryffindor instead of Slytherin, right? Now you're worried your dad is going to kill you?"

Scorpius only nodded. He was holding the envelope in front of him with a delicacy that made one think he believed it would detonate in his hands.

"Well… if they do, you should go talk to Sirius Black. He went through that when he went to Hogwarts. I'm sure he can tell you… you know… stuff… that would help you out if your dad's enough of a slimy git to toss you out." James picked up a roasted chicken leg from his suddenly full plate and took a bite. "Ooo no err oo nd sss prat, ri?"

Rose rolled her eyes. She loved the Potter boys, but they were disgusting sometimes.

Scorpius shook his head. He wasn't sure how to react to James calling his dad a slimy git. On the one hand… "No, I don't know where his portrait is… I don't even know who he is."

James swallowed. "He's hanging in the Sixth Year boys dormitory in Gryffindor Tower. Ask my cousin Fred to walk you up there. I'm sure he'll have no problem helping you."

"Helping with what?" Fred sat down on the other side of the table, next to Rose. Within moments he was working his way through roast beef and mashed potatoes. "Someone up to something they need my help with?"

"Malfoy sent a letter to his dad telling him that he wasn't up to Slytherin standards, and lacking any better place to put him, that evil, evil hat dropped him in amongst us unwashed Gryffindors." James grinned.

"And I come into the story….?"

"Since Malfoy's about to be disowned and thrown out by his parents, I advised that he consult with Sirius Black. Dad told me that he was a member of a traditionally Slytherin family that ended up in Gryffindor, too."

"Scorpius, you haven't even opened the letter! Maybe your dad is okay with…" Rose broke off what she was going to say as Albus, James, Fred, and Scorpius stared at her like a second head had just sprouted from her left shoulder. "Oh fine…" she huffed.

"Well, she has a point." Albus finished his beans and picked up a chip. "You haven't opened the letter yet. Maybe… who knows… maybe he's proud of you no matter what. Dads sometimes fool you, you know?" Now it was Albus's turn to be stared at. The younger Potter merely held his hands up, forestalling any commentary.

Scorpius pulled the envelope out of his pie and held it in both hands. He began to open it, then stopped. Then began again… and stopped again. He looked up and down the Gryffindor table. More people than he thought were watching him.

With a deep sigh, Scorpius opened the envelope. When it didn't explode, he withdrew the letter and began to read. As he did, he grew more and more confused. He reached the end of the letter and his father's over-exaggerated signature, and then began again, not sure he read it correctly.

"So? What's it say?" Rose asked. James, Fred, and Albus all nodded, prompting him to respond.

Rather than say anything, Scorpius began scanning the room, looking at faces until he reached the one he was looking for. As usual, Dahlia sat at the Ravenclaw table, closest to the teacher's table at the head of the room.

"Now I wonder why dad would say that." Scorpius asked himself.

Frustrated, James Potter shifted over and began to read over Scorpius' shoulder. Still caught in the confusion, Scorpius never noticed. When James reached the end of the letter, he looked over at the Ravenclaw table as well.

"Scorpius…" James began.

"What does he say, Scorpius?" Rose interrupted. She was almost holding her breath, worried for her friend.

"Well… um… he says." Scorpius cleared his throat. "He says that while he's disappointed I won't be matrik-oo-lating in his old House, he's sure I'll do well wherever I am and bring pride to the House of Malfoy. What's matrik-oo-lating mean?"

James was still looking at the letter. "Never mind that, Malfoy. I'm wanting to know what your father has against Dahlia Parkinson! I mean, to call her a…"

"I know what he called her… and I don't know what he has against her." Scorpius crumbled up the letter, utterly confused by his father's reaction.

"Well, worry about it later. Right now, eat!" Rose plopped a spoonful of something green and leafy… wilted spinach _maybe_… onto his plate. "You won't have enough energy to throw yourself off the top of the tower in anguish if you don't eat!"

**XxxxxxX**

During lunch, the three checked their schedules and found their next class was Transfiguration. While Scorpius was still pondering the letter from his father and its strange directives, James Potter was regaling them with tales of the supposedly "evil" Professor Rajapaksa.

"He's head of Slytherin House, you know. He likes to punish wayward students by turning them into mice and feeding them to his snakes. Got a ton of them, you know, snakes… but that's only fitting, what with him being the head of Slytherin House and all. He keeps them in glass tanks all over the classroom so they're in easy reach if he has to punish someone. And he smells of onions. And he's from Sri Lanka, so you know he knows all kinds of weird dark magic…"

James delivered the entire speech with such a straight face that, during their walk to the Transfigurations classroom, all Scorpius could think about was snake-wielding, onion smelling Dark Lords coming at him from the shadows.

On the one hand, it just sounded too ridiculous to be true. On the other hand, the best lies always involved speaking the exact truth, but making that truth sound so ridiculous that no one believed it. Scorpius stared at his feet as they left the Great Hall for their next class, mulling over the problem, not sure how to react.

Rose and Albus, on the other hand, were still discussing Scorpius' letter. "Obviously, you're going to have to go and ask her what this is all about," Rose suggested helpfully.

Scorpius just nodded, adding the letter to the list. "Yeah, but Father said not to go near her. And did you see what he called her in the letter? If I said that word at home, my mother would have me on a kitchen stool firing _Scourgify _charms into my mouth as fast as she could!" Scorpius' forehead bunched up in worry. "And that's almost as weird as why he didn't simply explode about my not being in Slytherin."

"That bad?" Albus asked, taking an interest.

"Yeah… he's got this entire Slytherin thing going." Scorpius rolled his eyes. "He was in Slytherin, and his father was in Slytherin, and all his grandparents were in Slytherin, too. I sometimes think that had my mother not been in Slytherin, he'd never have married her."

They turned a corner and came to a stairway. "Wait… is this the right way?" None of them had ever seen this hall before. "The classroom is on the ground floor, I thought?"

"Let's try this way… maybe we can find someone to ask." Scorpius waved them back the way they came. There were other students in the hall, but none they recognized. Most of them were clearly older than they were, so it might be they were in the wrong place entirely.

"Anyway, I think the entire Slytherin thing is part of that stupid pure blood wizard idea of his." Scorpius shook his head, clearly disgusted by it all. "It's really stupid…"

"My dad says that there really aren't any pureblood families anymore, and that's the way it should be." Rose spoke up, eyeing one of the side passages. "My mom's a Muggleborn, and she's got her own Chocolate Frog card! You don't get one of those if you're not special, so there can't be anything wrong with being a Muggleborn. And look at my Uncle Harry! He's the greatest wizard alive today, and he's only a Half-Blood, right Albus?"

"I'm not even sure what a Half-Blood is, Rose. I mean, it never made much sense to me." Albus tried to catch the attention of one of the older students. "Excuse me, but…" he said, but the student in question kept on walking.

Scorpius dropped his voice to a whisper, so only Rose and Albus could hear. "Father likes to use the M-word a lot. He doesn't do it when he's out in public where people can see him, but I've heard how he talks about people in private. Where no one can find out."

"That's wrong. Nasty, in fact. " Rose crinkled her face, making it look like she smelled something sour.

"I said the M-word once, when I was 8. I couldn't sit down for a week and wasn't allowed to play with my toy broom for a month." Albus added. "I didn't even know what it meant then, but boy… I've never said it again. And when Dad asked me where I heard it and I said from James, James couldn't sit down for a week either." He took a deep breath, and then yelled, "EXCUSE ME!" at an oncoming Ravenclaw girl.

The girl in question nearly dropped the book she was reading. Startled, she jumped backward from Albus, who stood directly in her path. She took a deep breath, and then addressed the animated obstacle that blocked her path. "What? No need to yell. What? Are you hurt or something?" When she spoke, it was with a thick, deep Welsh accent.

Albus smiled up at her. She was very tall. "No, we're not hurt… we're just lost. We can't find Professor Rajapaksa's classroom. Can you help us?"

The girl stared at the three first years for a moment, and then nodded. "Sure, yeah. " She pointed down the side corridor to the left. "Second door, just down there."

"Thanks," Albus called, as they took off down the corridor at a dead run. They scrambled into the room and immediately began searching for empty chairs. As the last three students to arrive, they unfortunately had to sit apart. Scorpius settled next to a large Slytherin girl with black, brushy hair. She eyed him speculatively for a moment. He smiled at her, hesitantly, and just as hesitantly, she returned the smile. For some reason, he couldn't help but notice that she had dimples when she smiled. She dipped her head shyly, and then turned her attention back to their instructor.

At the head of the class was a short, bald man in elegantly fitted, almost formal robes of light orange and pink. The light pastel color of his clothes offset the deep tan of his skin. He had his back to the class, using his wand to fill the blackboard with notes. At the top was the professor's name. "Professor Basil Rajapaksa", along with the words "Beginner's Transfiguration".

Scorpius took the opportunity to look around the classroom. It was an oddly angled room, wider toward the rear than the front. He remembered learning the name for such a shape once, but couldn't recall it at all. The student's desks were tiered, so that the ones in the front were sitting lower than the ones in back; the rows in front also had fewer desks. There were two wide aisles running down either side of the classroom, as well in the middle between rows of desks.

There were four high windows, each with beautifully crafted stained glass in them. The pictures were of magical creatures: a mermaid, a centaur, a unicorn, and a dragon. Each of the creatures scampered and flew or swam within its frame, every now and again turning to watch the students.

There were no deep shadows. No tanks full of serpents. Rather, the classroom was brightly lit, and the only extraneous decoration seemed to be a quartet of flower-boxes under the windows. These boxes were filled with some flower Scorpius had never seen before. It had large flowers and a bright orange color, and seemed to be absolutely beautiful.

There wasn't even a hint of onion smell in the air, as far as the boy could tell.

Without turning around, Professor Rajapaksa spoke. "Mister Malfoy, Mister Potter, and Miss Weasley, do try and be on time for my next class. And by 'on time' I mean sitting in your seats waiting for me to begin your lessons, not rushing into my classroom pell-mell, causing a fuss. Is that understood?" The man's voice was even and calm, and was accented with a sing-song quality that Albus had never heard before. It was less like he was dressing them down and more like he was discussing the weather for all the emotion he showed.

He turned toward the students, and Scorpius could see he was wearing dark black glasses with gold frames. For a moment, he wondered why the teacher would need shaded lenses, since the light wasn't that bright.

The professor cocked his head to the right slightly, never looking directly at any of the students, and said, "The proper response when I ask a question is 'Yes, professor' or 'Yes, sir'. If you choose the former, you may elect to add my last name, Rajapaksa, to your response. Or you may elect not. Either is appropriate. So let us try it again, please. Is that understood?" Again, the voice was utterly calm.

Scorpius looked at Rose, who looked at Albus, who looked at Scorpius. "Yes, professor," they responded.

"Good! Now that this minor matter has taken care of, let us call the class roll and get started, shall we?" The man's voice was suddenly cheerful. Not welcoming, like Professor Anydots was, but it definitely contained a friendlier note. "Now…." The professor turned toward his desk and waved his wand. Abruptly, a roll of parchment jumped up from his desk and into his grip. Rajapaksa held the roll in front of him, and without ever once opening it, called out the children's names, starting with "Anderson, Bianca" and ending with "Weasley, Rose". Once that was done, the professor released the roll of parchment and it floated back to its place.

"Welcome, students, to Beginning Transfigurations. Before we begin, I must caution you… Transfiguration involves some of the most dangerous magic you will ever encounter. If you do not attend the greatest possible care in your spell work, if you are not practicing the utmost care and diligence, it is possible for you to cause your fellow students or even yourselves irreparable harm." The professor paced back and forth in front of his class while he spoke. His wand was tucked into the orange silk sash he wore around his waist, and his arms were tucked and held behind him.

"As such," the teacher continued, "there is no place in my classroom for pranks or japes. I will give a week's detention to the student who points his wand at another student; even if you feel you have the greatest of causes." He stopped pacing and without looking at the students said, "Mister Muny, please hold questions until I have finished speaking. Unless you need to go to the restroom, in which case it is across the hall to your left, five doors down."

Scorpius looked at Albus and smiled. Rajapaksa wasn't missing a trick, as far as the boy could tell.

"Now, where was I?" Professor Rajapaksa's head dipped toward the floor, as if in concentration. "Oh yes…" he returned to his pacing. "Casting spells at your classmates. If it's a duel you want, I suggest you see Professor Longbottom… the man is an imminent duelist who has faced down opponents whose power and ferocity would turn your hair white."

The professor stopped pacing for a minute, cocked his head to the right again, and said, "My apologies, to you, Miss Teasdale. I meant no offense, of course." All eyes turned toward the pale girl who sat in the middle of the classroom. Jane Teasdale was an albino, with white hair and pale, pale pink eyes. As the only albino attending Hogwarts, she was naturally known, or at least known of, by the entire student body.

"Now…" Rajapaksa stopped and turned to the class. "Mister Muny, I see you're still here so I assume you had a question and weren't in need of a personal break. Yes?"

"Yeah… so does dat mean we ain't gonne be castin' no spells?" Muny, a ruddy-faced boy, spoke with a thick, working-class accent straight from East End, London.

Professor Rajapaksa took a deep breath. "Sir, Mister Muny. Or professor. Or if you must, Professor Rajapaksa. So your question would be 'does that mean we aren't going to cast spells, sir?', if I decrypted your lack of grammar correctly. Or perhaps even "Sir, does that mean we aren't going to cast spells?" He turned toward the classroom, and then turned back. "And the answer is no. That doesn't mean you aren't going to cast spells. It means you aren't going to be casting them willy-nilly."

He took out his wand and pointed to the blackboard. "Now… copy this down and study it tonight, along with the first chapter in your books. These diagrams and illustrations indicate the proper wand-movement needed to transform a matchstick into a needle." Without actually looking at his students, Professor Rajapaksa seemed to study them for a moment. "Now, without bothering with the incantation, which you will learn in a moment, who would like to be the first to give the wand motion a try? Hmmm? Anyone?"

**XxxxxxX**

Three hours later, they were on their way to the Gryffindor common room. "I am never going to believe anything James says, ever again. Tanks of snakes. He is such a git," Albus complained continually.

Rose snorted. "I thought that was a lesson you learned when you were still in nappies."

Scorpius was in just as much of a sour mood as Albus. Part of it was caused by the fact that he hadn't been able to do more with his matchstick than turn it into a silvery metallic matchstick. Rebecca Noone, the Slytherin girl with the dimples and shy smile he shared a table with, had actually put a sharp point on hers… but it remained a pointy match rather than a needle. Neither Rose nor Albus had made it much farther than he did.

Surprisingly, Professor Rajapaksa was generally happy with the progress. The only people he seemed impatient with were those whose matchsticks remained precisely what they were when the class started.

"So, Scorpius," asked Rose out of nowhere. "Have you given any more thought to the letter? Have you decided whether or not you're going to go talk to the Head Girl?"

"Oh, thanks for reminding me… I haven't thought about that in the ten or twenty seconds since class ended." The sarcasm was dripping from Scorpius' voice. "I haven't decided yet, no. I'd feel kind of odd, you know… just walking up to her at dinner, say, and asking her if she knew why my Father was calling her a --"

Rose interrupted, stopping in front of him and covering his mouth with her hand. "We know what he called her. You don't have to repeat it. Okay?" Scorpius nodded and she removed her hand.

"Please don't do that again," Scorpius said just loud enough for her to hear. "It's condescending."

Rose bit her bottom lip and stared at her friend for a moment. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to…"

Scorpius held up a hand. "It's okay… but don't do it again, please."

"We've got about an hour before dinner, and I really don't feel like just jumping into our homework… so what do you two want to do in the meantime?" Albus craned his neck around, trying to get some sense of the castle's landmarks. He'd missed the entire exchange. "You know, you'd think they'd put up signs or something."

Two girls suddenly swooped out of nowhere to gather up the three children. "From what Victoire told us, they tried that during her first year at Hogwarts." Molly and Lucy Weasley, twin cousins to Albus and Rose, had caught up with the three friends. Molly took the left side and Lucy the right, trapping the younger kids through the expedience of putting arms around shoulders. "Peeves kept changing them at random. First years were wandering around lost for weeks. Eventually, they just gave it up, apparently. Hi, Rose. Hi, Albus." They studied Scorpius for a bit, and then shrugged simultaneously. "Hi, Malfoy. How was the first day of class for you?" Lucy said finally.

"I had a great deal of fun," Rose reported. "Professor Anydots reminds me of Grandma Molly! And she knows so much about potions! And Professor Rakasajapaja is pretty cool too. I almost turned a needle into a matchstick. One thing I was wondering, though… is Professor Rasajasaka blind or something? He kept those dark glasses on the entire time and never seemed to look at anyone."

"But Professor Binns was so boring," Albus interjected. "I mean I usually like learning about history when your dad talks about it, Luce. But does he have to drone on and on like that all the time? I had a problem keeping awake!"

Lucy laughed. "Of course Professor Binns is boring… he's a ghost… and an old ghost too. I think he was over a hundred when he died." She gave Scorpius the eye. He hadn't said a word and seemed to be sneaking glances at her out of the corner of his eye while avoiding her direct gaze.

"And how'd you like class today, Mister Malfoy?" She asked him finally.

"Oh… fine… yeah… fine…" Scorpius said in a low, almost whispery voice. A blush crept up his neck and into his face. He still hadn't met Lucy's eyes.

"Alright then…" Lucy responded, puzzled. "Well… You kids take care. We'll see you in the Common Room later." And with that, they disappeared into the crowd.

Rose studied Scorpius as they kept walking. "Scorpius? Are you okay? You've gone awful quiet. It's okay… Molly and Lucy… they're not mean… even If they're a bit stiff sometimes like my Uncle Percy. He's their dad. Uncle Percy, I mean. They aren't the type to hold the entire Malfoy Slytherin thing against you."

Scorpius was still staring toward where the twins had vanished into the student body. "She was awfully pretty. What did you say her name was? Lucy?"

Rose and Albus could barely hear Scorpius' voice. Rose looked at Albus. Albus looked at Rose. Then both couldn't help it anymore and they burst out laughing.

"Oh my… someone just discovered girls." Rose snickered, and Scorpius shot her a sour look. He opened his mouth to deny it when, quite suddenly and unexpectedly, his thoughts about one Rebecca Noone shot through his mind.

He closed his mouth abruptly before saying a word.


	6. Sudden Enemies And Detention

**Chapter Six: Sudden Enemies And Detention**

The next morning, Rose and Albus headed for breakfast immediately. Scorpius was nowhere to be seen. He hadn't been in bed when Albus woke up, and wasn't in the Common Room when Albus met Rose after getting dressed. Albus was in the middle of his second helping of eggie-in-the-basket and bacon before Scorpius finally sat down across from him.

Scorpius could tell that his friend wanted to ask where he'd been, but luckily enough, Albus's mouth was far too full to begin to try and communicate. Unluckily enough, Rose was just as curious as Albus was, and had too many manners to just shovel in her food.

"So where have you been?" she began, almost as soon as he sat down. "Al said you weren't in bed when you woke up. We looked, but couldn't find you." Rose took another bite of her poached egg. Scorpius watched her in horror… having the white of an egg be semi-runny when you ate it always seemed too similar to eating bogeys, and who wanted to eat a bogey?

"I was in the seventh year bathroom, practicing," he said quietly. "I lost track of time… if one of the sevenths hadn't kick me out for being out of bounds then I would have forgotten about breakfast entirely." Scorpius nervously bit into a dry crumpet, took a sip of pumpkin juice, and promptly stopped eating. Instead, he began wringing his napkin in his hands, as if trying to squeeze blood from it.

"Well… you should eat more than just a crumpet. We've got a long day ahead of us. The first class this morning is Herbology, then Charms, and after lunch we've got our first flying lesson, and tonight we've got Astronomy." Rose recited their schedules from memory. "If you don't eat something, you'll be falling asleep in Charms, and I hear that Professor Dunstan gets really cross when students do that."

Scorpius looked up at the High Table, where Professor Dunstan sat, laughing at something Professor Flitwick was saying. He could hear Dunstan's deep, rolling laugh quite clearly past nearly the entire student body of Hogwarts. Scorpius wondered how loud if the old man was even capable of being cross.

"What were you practicing?"

Scorpius whipped around to face Albus. The question had surprised him. "What?"

"You said you were practicing in the bathroom. What were you practicing?" Albus took another bite of his breakfast. The yoke of the egg had broken, and he began sopping it up with more toast.

"Oh… well… I was practicing how I was going to ask Dahlia about Father's letter." Scorpius looked over to the Ravenclaw table. "I mean, I can't just walk up to her and stand there with my mouth open, can I? I mean, she's a seventh year... what seventeen year old, boy or girl, is going to want an ickle Firstie bothering them, yeah?"

"Yeah, well… good luck, mate. I wish I could help you with that, but I'm afraid you're quite on your own there." Albus smiled, letting Scorpius know that he meant it all in jest.

"Yeah… luck. I need some luck." He began to stand when Tom MacFarlane, the boy sitting directly to Rose's right pointed upward.

"Look! The mail's here!" Automatically the three friends glanced upward at the dozens of owls swooping into the Great Hall. Several of the owls flew over the Gryffindor table, dropping letters and small packages to several of the students. One letter fell neatly into Rose's hands. Another dropped directly onto Scorpius' lap.

"It's from Dad!" Rose exclaimed. She opened her letter and read it with a surprising intensity. "Oh come now…!"

She looked at Scorpius, who still hadn't opened his. "He wanted me to tell you welcome to Gryffindor. He also says that… I can't believe this… he says… oh my… he says that before you try anything with me, count up the number of cousins I have in this school. I cannot believe he actually said that in a letter."

Scorpius blushed. "What does he mean by 'try anything'? I mean, you're my friend, right? What does he think I'll do? Hex you or something?" He read the address on his envelope. "Oh. This is from my great-aunt Andromeda. I haven't seen her in years."

Albus looked puzzled. "Wait… Andromeda? You don't mean Andromeda Tonks, do you?"

"That's her name, yeah." Scorpius read the letter, wondering why she was writing.

_Dear Scorpius_

_I must admit that when your mother first informed me of your sorting, I was set aback. To my knowledge, no descendant of the House of Malfoy has ever been sorted into Gryffindor. The House of Black, of course, cannot say the same. Not only was my cousin Sirius sorted into Gryffindor, but we can count the many members of the Houses of Weasley, Longbottom, and Potter as distant cousins. If you prefer to think of your sorting as the result of their distant influence, you're all the better for it. You could certainly do worse. Many of my family, and yours, stand as perfect examples of what is worse._

_Your father is probably going spare, but I trust my nephew to eventually accept the situation. He might be aloof and distant, but he does love you in his own way. Be patient with him and you'll do fine. But if not, feel free to turn to me should you need to talk to someone who knows what it's like to be an outcast from your family._

_Finally, I do have some words of advice, if you don't mind taking advice from an old Slytherin like me: one of Harry Potter's sons is entering school with you, and there's no doubt in my mind that he will be in Gryffindor with you. Befriend him. The Potters are nothing if not loyal to their friends, and you will do well in life with a Potter at your side._

_With Great Love,_

_Auntie 'Dromeda_

Scorpius glanced up from the letter to see a questioning look on Albus' face. It took a moment for Scorpius to realize Albus had asked a question and that he had completely missed it.

"Sorry, what did you say?" Scorpius folded up his letter and placed it in his pocket.

"I asked if you knew Teddy Lupin! He's my oldest brother… sort of." Albus smiled.

"Sort of? How is someone sort of your brother?" Scorpius was confused. "I mean, you're either brothers or not, right?"

"Well… Dad's his godfather, so he was over a lot, and Dad always treated him like a son, and we sort of always treated him like he was an older brother. I mean, he's not really, but almost." Albus explained.

"I don't think I've ever met him. Mother talks to Auntie 'Dromeda, but Father never does." Scorpius replied.

"You mean you never knew you had a cousin?" Coming from such a large extended family, where you couldn't whirl a kneazle by its tail without hitting four or five cousins, Rose found the idea a bit shocking.

Scorpius shrugged. "I do now, I suppose. Is he here at Hogwarts? Which year is he in?"

Rose shook her head. "He's been out of school for two years now. He's at St. Mungo's, working as an apprentice Healer. One more year and he's through with his courses."

"If you come over during the summer, I'm sure you'll meet him." Albus casually issued the invitation, knowing instinctively that his parents wouldn't protest too hard.

Scorpius shrugged. His attention was suddenly on Dahlia Parkinson. The Head Girl was walking out of the Great Hall with two other girls. If Scorpius was going to talk to her, it was now or never. With a look to Albus and Rose to let them know where he was going, he stood up.

Scorpius tried to angle his path to cut her off at the end of the Ravenclaw table. He watched her walk down the other side of the table, figuring he had the timing worked out so they'd just naturally be near each other, when suddenly he was falling.

Off balance, Scorpius tried to catch onto something, anything, but before he could, he slammed shoulder-first into the stonework of the floor. The other students around him were silent for a moment, but then burst out with either a low murmur-and-whisper or outright laughter. An older Ravenclaw boy, a look of concern on his face, bent to help Scorpius stand. The smile on the other boy's face grew suddenly cruel as Scorpius found his feet.

"And where do you think you're doing, following Dahlia like that? I heard from someone on the train that you were sucking up to her. She's got better things to do than mess with a mis-sorted little snake like you." The boy leaned in so only Scorpius could hear his half-whispered insults. "Your grandfather killed my dad and my uncles and made my mother a nervous wreck. So I'm going to stomp you, you little turdie… you'd best believe it. And before you think of tellin' on me, keep it in mind that there's lots of folks like me who your lot killed in the war… who do you think they'll believe if you tell? A snake like you or a prefect like me?"

The boy stood back and brushed Scorpius' robes, as if cleaning him of dust. "There you go, right as rain. Looks like he tripped on his own shoe laces, perfessor."

Scorpius looked back to see Professor MacDougal, the Ravenclaw Head of House, approaching swiftly. "Well then," she said, "looks like Mister Malfoy is no worse for wear then. Carry on." She nodded at both students, and then turned to walk back to the High Table.

The other boy smiled at Malfoy, then slapped him on the back much harder than necessary. "Be seeing you, Malfoy."

Unsettled and vulnerable, Scorpius ran from the Great Hall as quickly as he could.

**XxxxxX**

Scorpius had run out of the Great Hall and through the front doors of the school. He didn't much care where he ended up, he just felt the need to find some hidden spot so he could let go, crying and screaming and yelling if he needed to without anyone, even his friends, seeing him. Being seen as a baby is one of the primary concerns in the life of an eleven year old, and Scorpius Malfoy was no different.

And so Scorpius had found himself sitting with his back to a long stone table, in a structure he'd never been to or even seen on campus before. He finally took his first look around while wiping the last tears from his eyes. It was strange, he thought. The building had no front wall… that side was open to the outside, with a set of columns holding up the ceilings.

The floor itself was broken up into large squares, alternating rose and white marble, and each square had writing on it. He stepped toward the nearest square and read "ALICIA MARGARET SPINNET. DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY. 1978 – 1998. GRYFFINDOR HOUSE." The next one to it read "CHARLES AUGUSTUS PENWORTHY. 1942 – 1998. HOGSMEADE VOLUNTEER." His eyes searched the wide open floor until they landed on the table he'd been leaning against. It wasn't a table. It was an altar, of a sort, a whatchicallit… sepulcher… with a flame burning in thin air above dead center. He suddenly realized he was in the Battle of Hogwarts Memorial.

"I wondered if you'd be in here. To tell you the truth, almost no one ever comes in here anymore. It's a bit of a shock." It was Fred Weasley. The older boy stood easily, leaning against a column. "Al is going spare, he's so worried about you. And I won't even go into how pissed Professor Longbottom is right now. You're missing his class, you see. He's got Hagrid and Sir Nicholas combing the castle for you right now. But they're off looking in the owlery and the kitchens. I had a hunch you'd run outside somewhere."

Scorpius sniffled. "I didn't want to be in the castle, where that muscle-headed git could find me. He said… he said he was going to stomp on me, and called me a turd. Because of something my grandfather did during the war." Scorpius took a deep, shuddering breath. "I never even knew my grandfather," he said, so quietly that Fred almost missed it.

Fred nodded. "Yeah."

Scorpius wiped at his nose, which still was a bit snotty. "He said there was more who thought like him, who blamed me for things that happened to their families. He also said he was a prefect and that no one would believe him if I told…"

Fred sucked air in through his teeth. "Did he now. Well… did you happen to catch this gentleman's name? I know all the Ravenclaw prefects, and I assure you we'll get this cleared up, one way or the other." The was definitely an air of menace about the older boy when he said this, but for some reason it wasn't directed at Scorpius. The older boy suddenly smiled at the younger boy's nervousness. "Don't worry, Scorp… Gryffindors protect their own. You're a Gryffindor. The hat wouldn't have sorted you here if you didn't belong. Now, did this toadlike example of inbreeding tell you his name?"

"No, he didn't tell me what his name was, but he was in Ravenclaw. And I know he's not the only one, because I've had people say things to me since the train ride. Or else they point and they say things behind my back. I've even had people in Gryffindor give me nasty looks." Scorpius didn't meet Fred's eyes. "One of your cousins, even."

Fred's mouth twisted slightly. "Well… we can't have that. I'll talk to my cousins."

For a moment, Scorpius studied Fred Weasley. He tried to do it casually, not wanting the other boy to notice. Despite the darker skin color and the dreadlocks, Fred's face still carried the same solid, squarish shape as the other Weasleys. Fred might look different, but it was obvious he was made from the same original timber.

Fred didn't notice the scrutiny. He was too busy looking around. "Come on, Scorp… let's get you to class. This place gives me the willies." Fred shivered. "Not anyone's favorite place to be. The Victory Day service every year is often enough for me."

Scorpius hadn't decided if he liked "Scorp", but he wasn't going to say anything that might cause the older boy to withdraw his offer of protection. "Why? What's here that bothers you?" Scorpius asked.

Without answering immediately, Fred walked the younger boy toward the back wall and pointed to a particular square. It read, FRED WEASLEY. DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY. 1978 – 1998. GRYFFINDOR HOUSE.

The pair stood there and stared at the memorial for a moment, before Fred broke the silence. "Now, I understand that the problems your name cause you are potentially worse than the problems my name cause me, but can you imagine what it's like, having this hanging over you?. Got any idea how creepy it is to look down on the tomb of some war hero you've never met and see your own name staring up at you? There are days… lots of days… that I wish I was named something other than Fred." He looked to Scorpius, who seemed to understand.

"Not that I don't like the name, mind you, or that I am ashamed of being named after my uncle…" Fred sighed. "It's just… right about my thirteenth birthday I realized that my dad treated me more like a replacement brother and less like a son. For the most part, that was cool… but there were times I needed a dad, not a big brother, and it was hard. And my grandmother… I'm telling you…" Fred wiped his hand down his face, pulling a bit on his lower jaw. "You don't know what it's like, knowing that of all of her grand-children… and there are a lot of us, Scorp… I've got cousins back home you haven't seen yet… but imagine you are your Gramma's favorite grandchild just because of your name." Fred let that sink in for a moment. "Not because you've done anything special, or for any other stupid reason, but just because you're named Fred-bloody-Weasley. Got any idea the good will that generates among the other kids in your family?" Fred looked Scorpius in the eye.

The younger boy just shook his head.

The pair were quiet for a while as they stood there, looking down on the tomb of the first Fred Weasley. Scorpius finally put his hand on Fred's arm and smiled. To Scorpius' great surprise, Fred smiled back. "Yeah, well, enough of this codswallop. Let's get you to class."

As they walked out, it occurred to Scorpius to ask, "Hey Fred… what does codswallop mean?"

Fred chuckled. "No idea. Its something Hagrid always says."

**XxxxxxX**

As he listened to the rain gently tap on the ceiling of his cherished greenhouses, Professor Neville Longbottom couldn't really state a reason why he felt so uneasy. He thought about it as he carried the bags of dragon dung fertilizer into Greenhouse 3's rear area. It was just a detention, like so many others he had issued during his nearly fifteen years as a Hogwarts professor. But this time it was with a Malfoy. The thought of having Draco Malfoy's son in a detention, making him do some greatly exaggeratedly unpleasant task, was a disturbingly pleasurable one.

And that bothered him. He'd always strived to follow the late Professional McGonagall's example: no matter what you felt about an individual student, you treated them fairly and appropriately. Up until now, Neville thought he had succeeded in doing just that. Every student in the school knew that he never favored Gryffindor House in any of his classes, nor did he unduly penalize the Slytherins.

At least not in any significant way, that was. There were always the little things… like his not enforcing the school's lights out policy as stringently on the sixth and seventh years as he did on the others, or the fact that he was generally more lenient when it came to the first years and their rule-breaking…

Generally more lenient. His thoughts again arrived at the subject of Scorpius Malfoy, who was, of course, the spitting image of Draco Malfoy. His childhood tormentor. The bully who, for so much of Neville's time at Hogwarts, had made Neville's life a living hell. That Malfoy. If forced to admit it, Neville had actually enjoyed levying punishment on the boy not because of who Scorpius was, but because of who Scorpius' father was.

Neville wasn't sure what to do about that. The last thing he wanted was to turn into Severus Snape.

He took up a pair of tongs from his toolbox and a set of small gloves and set them both next to the fertilizer. No… it wasn't really fair to the boy. But Neville didn't really know what to do about his feelings. Perhaps he should talk to someone. He'd be home tonight late, and no doubt Hannah would already be in bed asleep… and anyway, Hannah hated it when he brought work home, as much as he hated when she brought issues with the tavern to bed with her. Hermione, then. Or better yet, Harry. He'd contact Harry about his feelings regarding the Malfoy boy. After all, if anyone understood what it was like to be hated for who your parents were…

With Harry in mind, he took a deep breath and simply stood there for a long moment, collecting his thoughts by watching the raindrops strike the glass roof of the greenhouse.

"Professor?"

Neville jumped in surprise, then turned to the newly arrived Scorpius Malfoy. The boy stood just inside the door to the greenhouse, still dripping from the rain. He had a look of confusion on his face, obviously wondering what his teacher was doing just standing there looking into space.

"Mister Malfoy. You're right on time. Good work, considering the weather." Neville gave him a polite smile and motioned him further inside the greenhouse. "We're going to be fertilizing the dragon lilies this evening. You'll find some work robes over there, and I have a pair of gloves for you as well. Once you're prepared, come back and meet me in the rear."

Neville turned away from the boy and walked back to the rear tables. The newly planted dragon lilies were still too young to breathe fire, but they were nevertheless aggressively pushing and snapping at each their neighbors. He scooped several pounds of fertilizer into a large metal bowl and set it aside, still thinking to himself.

He felt rather than actually saw Malfoy approach. "Ah, here you go. All right, young man, here's how this is going to work. These are dragon lilies. Have you ever seen them before? Ever dealt with them?"

The boy shook his head, warily eyeing the aggressive flowers.

Neville smiled. "Well then, you're in for an experience. Now, when they are larger and more fully grown, these flowers have the capacity to actually breathe fire on creatures they perceive as a threat. Right now, though, they're still young enough that the worst they can do is give you a nasty bite. You've got your gloves on, though, so that shouldn't be a worry."

Neville watched the boy's eyes go wide as he stared at the dragon lilies. The flowers had taken notice of Neville and the boy's presence. Several were bending low in their pots and growling at the pair. Neville gestured toward the bowl of fertilizer. "Now pick up that bowl… I'll use the tongs to hold the dragon lily away from you. You spread a goodly amount of fertilizer around its base."

For a moment, Neville expected the boy to freeze in place rather than follow his directions. But without so much as a moment's hesitation, Scorpius stepped forward and picked up the bowl. The action abruptly reminded Neville that this young man was a member of his own house… the house of Godric Gryffindor. It was clear that the boy was nervous, but he wasn't frightened.

Neville nodded. "When you need more fertilizer, the bag is right over there. Just let me know when your bowl runs out and I'll help you refill it." He raised the tongs. "Ready, Mister Malfoy?"

The boy nodded. "Ready, professor."

**XxxxxxX**

They worked in silence for nearly an hour and a half. To Neville's surprise, he found that Scorpius might be a reluctant worker, but once on a task he was diligent and attentive, and he followed directions willingly enough. Finding things to admire about the boy made Neville's next words a bit easier to say. Given the trouble he was having viewing Scorpius Malfoy separate from Draco, the professor had been dreading this part of the evening.

"Mister Malfoy… I have been informed that you are having some problems with some of the other students," Neville said. The dragon lily had evaded his grip, and Neville found himself using his tongs as a makeshift weapon to fend off its snapping attacks. "Is this true?"

"yrhrm prfmrhmrm," Malfoy murmured with a shrug. The boy was studying his shoes rather than meet Neville's eye, which told the Herbology Professor exactly what he wanted to know.

Neville spared a quick second to glance at the boy. "What was that? Speak up, Mister Malfoy… I am afraid I am no longer fluent in mumbling child."

The boy sighed, then nodded, saying, "I said 'yes, professor'."

"Who?" Neville finally caught the lily and pulled its blossom back. He motioned for Scorpius to fill its pot with fertilizer. "Who specifically has been causing you grief?"

"I… um…" Scorpius hesitated.

"Mister Malfoy, the urge to not be seen as a tattletale is a fine thing, but there are limits." Neville put the tongs down and turned toward his student. "Mister Malfoy… Scorpius… look…" Neville began. He thought for a long moment about what to say and what not to say. "Professor Anydots tells me she turned around the other day to find you spattered in toad intestines, and she has yet to determine precisely who it was who threw them at you. Professor Jones has informed me that you showed up for her class hopping under the effects of a Leg Locker Jinx. And then there's the slightly fading bruise on your right cheek."

The boy looked like he was going to bolt at any moment. Neville sighed. "Let me guess. Someone… perhaps more than one someone… has cornered you alone and told you that if you tell they'll make it worse for you. Maybe take it out on your friends, too. Is that it?

Scorpius' eyes grew wider, but he nodded.

Neville ground his teeth, then nodded. "Who, Mister Malfoy? I can't put a stop to it unless I know who it is. And believe me, I can make it stop."

The boy shrugged. "He said his name was McCorkindale…"

Neville nodded. "Slytherin prefect. No doubt his friends Leatherby and Bletchley were there too, I suppose? And whatever girl McCorkindale is seeing this week?"

Scorpius nodded grimly.

"Four sixteen year olds, ganging up on a First Year. Perfect." Neville stood. "Mister Malfoy, we're done for the night. Let's go back into my private workroom." He led Scorpius through a door marked "Teachers Only", into a room that was half-office, half gardening storeroom.

The professor took out his wand and conjured a glass of pumpkin juice and several large pieces of chocolate for Scorpius, and a mug of butterbeer for himself. Neville motioned toward the chocolate, and waited for the boy to avail himself of it before continuing. "So what did McCorkindale and his henchmen do?"

Malfoy didn't say anything. He just stared into his glass.

"What did he do, Mister Malfoy?"

Scorpius shrugged, and this time it was obvious to Neville that the boy was trying to make it all seem very casual. To Neville, though, this sort of thing was never casual. Harry Potter was once again called to Neville's memory. Both Harry and the young man currently sitting in front of Neville had the same bad habit of not admitting when they needed help.

"Mister Malfoy…"

The boy sighed once more. "He threw me out of my compartment on the train. I tripped and bashed my face into the wall of the train. That's how I got the bruise."

"And the rest?" Neville ran a hand through his hair, thinking about how to handle all this. _I'll have to talk to Professor Rajapaksa, no doubt…_

"Well, there was a boy from Ravenclaw…" Scorpius continued.

…_and MacDougal…_ Neville continued his thought.

"He said he was a prefect, but I didn't see a badge. And I don't know his name." Scorpius went on. There were tears in the boy's eyes. Neville felt like a heel, making him go through this, but it had to be done. "He said he was going to make me pay, because something happened during the war and it was my fault because I'm a Death Eater."

Neville's face grew grim. "You're not a Death Eater, Malfoy. Trust me. If anyone at this school knows who is and who isn't a Death Eater, it's me. And you…" he stopped. "Just trust me, son. You don't qualify. Anyone else?"

"Well… um… I know who cast the Leg Locker." Neville watched the boy's eyes suddenly move away from Neville, moving to the wall behind the Herbology professor, then to the desk. It was obvious that the young man didn't want to say the name.

"Well?" Neville asked, gently. "Who was it?"

Scorpius seemed to fold in on himself. "Fortnum. Adam Fortnum."

Neville's mouth fell open. He was honestly shocked by this revelation. "You're talking about Adam Fortnum the Head Boy? The _GRYFFINDOR_ Head Boy? He did that to you?"

Scorpius only nodded. He was carefully studying his shoes.

Neville put both hands to his face and rubbed for a moment. "Stupid arrogant… no sense of house loyalty… what in the bloody hell is he thinking…" The professor stared into space, Scorpius momentarily forgotten. He would have liked to think that no Gryffindor would indulge in such pettiness, but he knew all too well that thinking that all the people in their various houses perfectly exemplified the ideals of that house as if they were perfectly carved copies of one another was…

"Professor…" Neville blinked, then turned his attention back to Malfoy. The boy was on the edge of crying.

"Sorry, Mister Malfoy. Thinking." Neville dug a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it over. "Blow your nose, Malfoy. Did you wish to ask me something?"

Scorpius blew his nose on the handkerchief while nodding. "Yes, Professor. Do you… can you tell me… why they hate me? I haven't done anything to them…"

Neville went white. He could hear the voice his conscience speaking to him. _Well… now was the perfect chance to put those fables ideals of nobility and fairness and courage to the test, old bean…_It always amazed him that the voice of his conscience sounded suspiciously like the late, lamented Fred Weasley.

"Well… um… all right, Mister Malfoy. Have a seat. This might be a long story, but it's a story you deserve to hear." Neville waited until Scorpius sat. He sat in silence, staring at the boy for a couple of minutes… just long enough for Scorpius to start fidgeting beneath his gaze.

Neville let out a long breath and began to speak. "First -- and understand this, Mister Malfoy, because its very important -- not all wizards are good. Some of them go bad. Almost fifty years ago, there was one wizard who went as bad as you can go, and his name was Tom Riddle…"


End file.
